


Who I Really Am

by LSFOREVER



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Crossdressing Harry, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Felching, Genderfluid Harry, Hand Jobs, Harry likes being held down and that's it really, Light Dom/sub, Light breath play, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 04:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 44,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2568542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSFOREVER/pseuds/LSFOREVER
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Harry may or may not be gender fluid. In his mind, he isn’t, but it’s the closest thing to what he would describe himself as...</em>
</p><p>Alternate Reality. Harry is having some problems concerning his gender identity and the closest people around him. All it takes is some supportive fans and their wonderful signs to kick everything into gear and push everything into place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is in no way, shape, or form true. It never happened. There are some things in this fic that may be offensive to some people, and I do not agree with them At. All. I am sorry in advance if this is hurtful to anybody. This is merely a piece of fiction that I wrote during **my own time of self-discovery**. That being said, please take caution going into this fic.
> 
> The breath play is very light - Louis fucks Harry’s mouth and cuts off his oxygen for a few seconds, not even five seconds, I swear! Just in case that kind of things turns you off...
> 
> Title taken from [The Kill (Bury Me)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8yvGCAvOAfM) by Thirty Seconds To Mars.
> 
> Xx

 

 

Harry may or may not be gender fluid.

In his mind, he isn’t, but it’s the closest thing to what he would describe himself as. Plus, he hates labels. He doesn’t mind other people using them for themselves, but he’s always been labeled, has always had people throwing names at him that supposedly “defined” him, and now he hates labels. Abso-fucking-lutely hates them.

Anyways. Harry definitely likes boys, so he calls himself gay because that is one label he doesn’t care about anymore.

But being gender fluid has nothing to do with his sexual orientation. Or whatever the fuck he is. Harry likes wearing boy clothes, likes feeling manly and sexy (especially when it means Louis will fuck him hard and good later that night), but he also likes wearing girl clothes. He likes the feeling of being pretty, likes the way lip-gloss will make his lips shiny and soft, likes the way his penis looks in skin-tight skirts.

He doesn’t like being called a girl, though, because he has a penis and he still _feels_ like a guy, a _male_ , so would it really make sense to call him genderfluid when he defines himself as a boy?

Harry remembers when he was a child and his older sister, Gemma, would have him dressed up in princess dresses and crowns and his mum would call him the prettiest princess in the whole kingdom, tied with Gemma of course.

He remembers being a young teenager and always going into his older teenage sister’s room and playing with her big-girl makeup and then always hiding under his mum’s bed whenever Gemma would find him. Although, when he would finally come out of his hiding place, most of the time she would look at him with angry eyes for a few seconds before caving. Then she would take him back to her room, wash his face off, then redo everything; from curling his hair a little extra to putting just enough eye shadow, blush, and lip-gloss to make a difference, but not enough to make him look like a clown like before.

Whenever his mum would come home late from work, she always looked dead on her feet, and after plenty of pampering and cooking for her, she would finally notice how beautiful Harry looked and would always smile so wide, kiss him on the forehead.

Once he had started getting older, like around the age of fourteen and fifteen, boys wearing makeup put on by their older sister wasn’t cute anymore; it was weird and that’s when people started calling him fag and poof and nance, and once he was even called pansy.

The thing is, Harry didn’t _not_ like boys’ clothing either. One day, he came home and made Gemma take him out to buy a bunch of basketball shorts (even though he was, still is, terrible at sports), along with a sixty pound bottle of cologne.

When his mum had come home that night, he had been wearing a Beatles band t-shirt along with sort-of baggy jeans and that expensive cologne, and his mum had only smiled. Just as big as she always would. She complimented on how handsome he had smelled, instead of saying pretty and flowery, and she didn’t even bat an eyelash. Harry didn’t even know a smell could be described as handsome.

That’s why he loves his mother and his sister so much. They’ve never judged him for anything, especially not when he came out finally. By the time he had turned sixteen, his mum and Robin had been together and Robin reacted the same way as the rest of his family when he told them. It was over dinner and he just said it, said that he’s gay. Their reactions were all very positive. As was Robin when he came home from work one evening to see Gemma and Harry both wearing dresses and heels from their mother’s closet.

He had smiled at Harry and hugged Gemma, then got to work helping them make dinner before Anne was scheduled to be home.

It’s not just the looking pretty thing, wearing pretty clothes and cute makeup; it’s also the fact that Harry likes the attention he gets from his sister and his mother. Most boys played with trains and airplanes and dinosaurs and all that, but Harry, he liked the closeness he got whenever he dressed up with his mum and sister, whenever he talked about cute boys with them.

But that doesn’t mean it’s okay for his band mates to always be making fun of him for how girly he is.

Sure, they’ve already released three albums, are on tour for the third and fourth. And even though it’s been _four years_ that they’ve been together as a band now, Harry hasn’t told any of the boys how he feels about his whole gender identity thing.

(Which isn’t even a _thing_ , really; Harry doesn’t think of himself as a girl ever. He likes being a boy, likes his cock and likes his manly build. He just likes dressing like a girl and feeling beautiful. Okay. So maybe cross-dressing is super close to what he would call himself if he _had_ to use a label, somewhere between gender fluid and cross-dresser.)

It’s just. Harry’s been really super busy with everything that’s been going on in his life. From starting The X-Factor, being put in a band, making it big and staying big and getting even bigger, growing up on the road with four of his best friends, one of which also happens to be his boyfriend.

Harry’s been busy with life, too busy to sit the boys down and try to explain to them, try to get them to understand where he is with all of this.

Which also means he always gets made fun of whenever he and Gemma are talking on the phone about the latest dresses Louis Vuitton has come out with, or he gets names thrown at him whenever he starts acting a bit too clingy. “Just like a girl does,” Niall had said one time. Zayn had agreed, had mentioned how Perrie is like that all the time. Harry countered with the fact that Perrie and Zayn don’t see each other but three whole months out of the year. Liam had pointed out that exactly, Perrie acts like that sometimes, but because they never see each other; that Harry sees Louis every second of every day, so he clearly shouldn’t be as clingy.

Sometimes Harry just gets like that. He likes the contact, likes random contact from Louis. Whether that be a hand on his thigh or an arm around his shoulder or snuggling into his side. He loves being close to Louis like that. He also loves pleasing Louis, and not just in the sexual way. Harry will go out of his way to make sure Louis is happy, even if that means flying out to New York to get Louis the latest pair of VANS or walking to the grocery down the street for some cheap wine at two in the morning.

So what if that makes him clingy? That shouldn’t really mater, right? In Harry’s opinion it shouldn’t. But to the boys it does. They tease him about it all the time.

Just like they tease him for how he acts. Harry loves smiling and he loves dancing and he loves twirling around. He likes the feeling he gets whenever he puts flowers in his hair, wears nothing but a skimpy apron, and makes breakfast while humming Elvis songs.

Zayn always calls him the housewife. Louis laughs along so easily, has agreed on numerous occasions.

Niall’s always tugging on his curls and calling him the loveliest princess with the loveliest, bounciest hair in the world. Though it’s with a big smirk and large cackles when Harry rolls his eyes and pushes his hands away.

Liam always calls him out for the headbands he wears, the scarves he wears to tie his hair back. If Harry hasn’t cut his hair in the whole duration of the tour, then so be it. Harry likes wearing the silk scarves. They feel amazing and look wonderful and keep his hair out of his eyes. What beats that, huh? Especially his red scarf with the purple penises on it that Louis had gotten him last Christmas.

Louis is always commenting on his shirts and skin tight jeans. “Girls where jeggings, Harry,” Louis had teased once while kneading his fingers into Harry’s bum.

Harry has never really minded the banter, because that’s what it is. Banter. But after a while, it has gotten annoying and hurtful. Like they still haven’t moved on to something else to make fun of Harry for. Nope. They always call him a girly girl, or princess, or m’lady, or even pussy once. But that was when Niall was high and he was obsessed with that word at the time being.

The fact that Harry hasn’t told any of the boys how he really feels, especially Louis, adds on to that. He knows he needs too, but he also has a feeling that they’ll all laugh it off, call it out like they knew he felt like a girl sometimes – which he doesn’t, he just likes feeling beautiful – and that might make things worse. They’ll tease him more, and they won’t realize it hurts his feelings.

But why would they? It’s not like Harry’s ever deliberately said before that he doesn’t like being teased like that, and come on. They’re all brothers basically; they’ve been living out of each other’s pockets for almost four years now. Why would they think Harry would find offence?

Because they think they’re just playing, messing around, teasing. They do it to each other. But not about anything like this and not on-going for the whole time they’ve been a band.

They’ll probably get mad at Harry for not telling them sooner and then they’ll call him a baby because he can’t take a joke, god.

In the back of his mind, Harry knows that’s not true, but his worries overpower everything.

In that moment, when Louis had made the comment about girls being the ones to wear jeggings, Harry almost snapped. It had only been three weeks ago, and Harry’s been wearing jeggings for the longest time. But that might have hurt the most, hearing Louis say that. Louis is one hundred percent gay, and the fact that he had basically called his boyfriend a girl, not only insulted Harry, but also himself, Harry’s boyfriend, and that was not okay.

Harry wanted so badly to push Louis off him and just spill everything, to let Louis know once and for all what was going down.

But he hadn’t, because he never gets that mad and when he does, he pushes it down. Harry’s a naturally happy person (except for when people are making fun of his gender identity), and he’s always striving to make everybody around himself happy too.

Whenever Harry gets sad or offended by any of the boys’ remarks, he pushes those feelings down and brushes the boys off. That’s all he knows how to do, otherwise he might have a breakdown and he might need a break from everything and everyone for a long time.

Gemma and Anne, though, they know. Anne knows Harry hasn’t told the boys, but Gemma knows everything. Every single time one of the boys makes a comment or a joke, Harry immediately tells Gemma. Gemma loses respect for them every time, particularly when it comes to Louis. Though she knows Harry loves them all and therefore she does too.

She also loves Harry, and if it weren’t for Harry specifically asking her to not talk to the boys about it, she probably would’ve already cursed them all out. Multiple times.

Harry just doesn’t know want to do anymore. He feels like he’s held this off, held off telling them for so long that they might be hurt, that they might think he doesn’t trust them. But he can’t keep it a secret much longer.

Every joke, every smirk to what he’s wearing, every eye roll and princess terms thrown at him for how he acts, is pushing him that much closer to breaking.

Who knows when that might be. Harry might sum up enough courage to tell them before anything gets really out of hand, but he might not. He might not and he’ll end up breaking one day and that will not be good.

At all.

It’s nice to know he has his sister and his mother and Robin, though. It’s nice to know that if anything bad truly happens, he’s got his lovely family and lovely fans.

Well. Some.

A lot.

-

There is exactly one week before the tour is over, before everybody gets to go home and relax. They have a few more shows and then they’ll be flying back to London. Having just finished their last show in New Orleans, they’re all on the bus on the way to Charlotte right now, and then to Georgia and Florida for their last three shows.

Even though it’s half past one in the morning, Harry is sitting crisscrossed on the floor, sorting out his scarves. Yes, he’s tired as fuck, but he can’t sleep. Not until his scarves are sorted. Earlier in the day, while he’d been at a rest stop with Liam getting a few snacks, Louis had thought it would be a good idea to take every single one of Harry’s scarves and hide them throughout the tour bus, and Harry didn’t find out until after the show was over and Niall, on the couch, and Zayn were already asleep, the curtain of his bunk drawn.

Liam is asleep now too, and though Louis is in his own bunk with the curtain drawn, Harry has a strong feeling he isn’t asleep. He’s probably texting one of his sisters or something.

Anyways. Harry is by the half open door, using the light that’s trickling through the crack from the cabin and the moonlight from the small window in the roof. He’s got a pile for the ones he had before the tour, and the pile he’s working on right now from while on the tour; three scarves he had bought in Paris, two from Milan, and the red one with purple penises Louis had bought in Las Vegas (his new favorite).

After making sure he had had all of them, Harry had sat down and got to work. He may have made up a new way to organize them, and he also may have taken the time to straighten and fold each perfectly, which is why he’s up so late.

But Louis knows how much he likes his scarves, which is probably also why he had hidden them in the first place. Harry is still a bit annoyed at him, but after folding the last scarf, he’s basically forgiven Louis. Even if he is faking sleep.

Just as he’s starting to put them all away in their designated pocket in his suitcase, the door slides open and a pair of legs almost knock over him. A grunt that sounds very much like Niall, confirmed when Harry looks up and sees the tired blue eyes and funky hair, is heard and Harry smiles a little. He picks up his scarves, making sure not to mess up the specific folding, and folds his legs in so Niall will be able to get by.

“You’re still up?” Niall whispers groggily, rubbing at his eyes and yawning, looking very much like a little child. Harry almost coos.

“Putting these up,” Harry motions at the fabric bundles in both of his hands.

Niall steps by, but he turns back, leaning his shoulder against the wall. He doesn’t say anything so Harry finishes tucking them away, zipping his suitcase up and pushing it in the cubby under his and Louis’ bunks.

“Louis bought me two packs of gum so I wouldn’t tell you,” Niall whispers after Harry stands and stretches.

Harry rolls his eyes and sighs. “Of course he did,” he mumbles, not even caring anymore. He pulls back the curtain to his bunk, making sure the blanket is pushed to the side so he won’t have to move around a lot once he settles in.

Niall claps him on the back and says, “And you stayed up for almost two hours just to sort them and fold them?” Niall shakes his head, amusement in his tired eyes.

Harry frowns internally, because he has a feeling of where this is going. It happens all the time so why should he be surprised? “I’ve been awake ever since we got on the bus, yes. But I didn’t know about my scarves until about an hour ago and it took me a while trying to find them all.”

“You talk too much for arse-clock in the morning, mate,” Niall ruffles Harry’s hair, effectively making them even more tangled and messed up than they had been. Harry can’t bring himself to fix them; he’ll be going to bed anyways.

Raising his eyebrow in wait for if the cheeky Irishman has anything else to say, Harry waits. When Niall only raises an eyebrow back and smiles a very smug smile, Harry rolls his eyes again, probably for the twentieth time that night, and turns to climb up into his bunk.

He’s expecting it, he really is, because it happens every night, no matter who it is that does it. But Harry still winces when Niall pinches his bum and mutters, “Goodnight Princess.”

Thankfully Harry is wearing boxers this time. He mostly sleeps naked, but it’s a little cooler on the bus tonight.

Harry doesn’t say anything, instead choosing to pull the curtain shut as a response. He hears Niall chuckle. Normally, he would laugh it off or roll his eyes with a forced smile, but Harry doesn’t feel like laughing it off as no big deal tonight. All he wants is to maybe get a little bit of sleep before Liam wakes them all up for his early morning protein breakfast and workout sessions.

He’ll probably get called princess, at the very least, five more times over the course of morning, since he always wears short workout shorts, a thin tank top, and a scarf to hold his hair back. Princess is his nickname, from the boys anyways, amongst other girly nicknames.

Harry should be used to it by now, he really should. They’ve been in a band for four years now, so he really should. And he sort of is. But that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

Once he had tried to tell Louis near the beginning of their first tour, explain to him why he doesn’t appreciate having those names thrown at him. Louis had brushed him off in the first sentence, saying Harry was his princess so he had nothing to worry about. Harry still frowns whenever he thinks about that, and the remark about the jeggings Louis made three weeks ago makes it all worse. Why hadn’t Louis let Harry talk? Why hadn’t he listened like a boyfriend should do?

Not that Harry thinks Louis is a terrible boyfriend; Harry thinks Louis is the most wonderful boyfriend in the world. He loves Louis with all his heart and nothing will ever change that. But that doesn’t mean Louis won’t hurt Harry for not letting him talk or making rude remarks. The exact opposite, actually. Louis being his boyfriend, hopefully fiancé soon, makes everything hurt that much more.

Once Harry realizes his chest is hurting, eyes prickling a bit, he scowls at himself and pulls out his phone. No, Harry refuses to fall asleep with those thoughts in his mind. Every time he does, he has bad dreams. Playing a bit of music from their first album always cheers him up, as well as watching the video diaries.

But Harry’s trying to fall asleep so he selects the playlist, puts it on shuffle, turns it to the seconds lowest sound setting, and snuggles into the pillow. The first song that comes on is Stand Up, which just so happens to be the song that’s playing again when he’s woken up not six hours later by Louis deft fingers in his hair, along with Louis’ soft lips on his temple, warm body pressed against his side.

If it weren’t for Liam’s loud voice yelling down the aisle between the bunks, Harry would have maybe turned to face Louis and press their hips together, but he can’t. No matter how sad it makes him that he can’t let Louis take care of his morning wood, seeing Liam’s face light up whenever any of the other boys join him for a healthy morning trumps that.

Not really, but Harry convinces himself it does.

I will, for this morning.

Louis seems to be thinking the same thing, because before Harry can even open his eyes to look at him, Louis’ fingers lightly trail across the top of his waistband, down to cup him through the soft material, and he says, “Better save that for later, hmm?”

Harry nods, eyes open now, his hips pumping up on their own accord. Louis’ eyes darken just a fraction more, but Harry notices, he always notices, and his own hand comes down to pull Louis’ off of him. “Definitely,” he promises. Never will he turn down an offer from Louis, even if it is for a simple handjob in the cramped bathroom.

“Harry! Louis!” comes Liam’s voice from right outside the curtain. Both boys look to see Liam moving the curtain, but never pulling it back. He’s learned his lesson many times before. “Get your hands off each other’s dicks and come eat. You’ve got plenty of time to do all that later.

After they get more sleep because it’s too fucking early for a Monday morning, especially the morning after a show.

“M’hands are being held captive by Haz’s,” Louis voices out, kicking his foot out at the end to shuffle the curtain again, but not enough to open it. Harry looks down and blushes as he releases Louis’ own hands. Louis pats his chest and says,  “So quit you’re worrying, we’ll be out it a second.”

Harry really doesn’t want to get out of bed now, but he has to. Louis says so when Harry whines, but Harry’s rewarded when a sweet kiss is pressed to his lips.

After jumping down from the bunk after Louis, Harry realizes he’s still half hard and the boxers aren’t doing anything to help hide it. Like he cares, though; everybody has seen him fully naked and fully hard (not in a weird way, just by accident), so it doesn’t really bother him.

They’ve all seen each other with hard-ons in their pants anyways, still accidentally, so nobody really cares anymore.

Except Harry knows there is a chance at least one of the boys will comment on how pretty he looks, how wet he must be getting since Louis has refused to pleasure him, or whatever bullcrap they always come up with, so he finds a stray pair of sweats and one of Louis’ jumpers, pulls them on, and follows Louis out into the cabin/kitchen area.

It’s not fair at all since Louis is only wearing briefs and an old band shirt that might have been Niall’s once, but has since become property of the whole band.

That happens a lot, except each of them has their own specific clothing they never share. Like Harry with his scarves, unless sometimes, rarely, he lets Louis wear them; Liam and his sock thing, because sharing socks creeps him out, which is weird because he’ll swap briefs with anybody in the band, even Paul, if he has to, but whatever; Zayn and his beanies, Perrie buys them for him, so he claims they’re super special and not to be messed with; Niall with his Supras that he has leant to Liam maybe twice, but no one else; Louis and his band t-shirts from when he was still in school, before he auditioned for The X-Factor and all that, though Harry has managed to get Louis to let him wear them to bed sometimes.

The point is, with a very few minor exceptions, they all share everything, literally _everything_ , including money, including families, even. That’s why Zayn’s mum had once said that they “live out of each other’s pockets”.

They’ve shared every secret, everything in their pasts, _everything_. Except for Harry and the part where their playful bantering and remarks hurt him because he hasn’t told them about his… gender thing, is what he’s come to calling it mostly.

Which is also another reason why he keeps holding it off, because he knows they’ll be upset with him since he hasn’t told them. He knows they’ll be angry that he just let them go on making fun of him and lying about whether or not he was okay with it. And the longer he waits to tell them, the more they’ll be upset.

But Harry hates whenever somebody is mad at him, at least somebody that he cares about. It’s only ever happened a few times with the boys and once with his sister, but he absolutely hates it, hates the feeling he gets when he knows he’s upset someone.

Somewhere along the way, Harry came to except the fact that maybe he didn’t want to tell them at all. If receiving every hurtful name, every hurtful action means not disappointing the boys, then he’ll take it.

Maybe it sounds selfish, but it really isn’t. Harry doesn’t ever want the boys, especially Louis, to be disappointed or upset at all about anything, including him. He wants them to always be in good moods, to always be laughing and smiling. But they won’t be that way if he tells them, and when – _if_ he does, they’ll be the exact opposite of laughing and smiling, and it will be all his fault.

Letting himself hurt a little on the inside is worth seeing the crinkle by the boys’ eyes whenever they smile, seeing the proud-of-themselves looks whenever they call Harry the prettiest girl alive and manage in making him blush and squirm as he tries to play it off.

Liam is wide awake, the bastard, with his arm slung over Niall’s shoulders, who looks like he’s still half asleep. Zayn is already sitting at the half-booth/half-couch, his phone out and on the string of messages between him and Perrie. Louis plops down right next to him and Harry remains standing, effectively keeping memories of Niall’s teasing from a few hours before away.

“If Paul weren’t in one of the other busses, he’d be here too,” Liam mutters, mostly to himself.

In the hand not attached to the arm slung over Niall is a plate of fresh cooked scrambled eggs with what looks to be cut up pieces of red and green peppers. On the table is a plate of wheat toast and the aroma of freshly squeezed orange juice fills the room.

Liam’s already in his morning workout clothes, and Harry almost groans when he sees them.

Once he’s seated next to Louis, Niall and Liam sit across from them and then everybody starts making their own plates.

If Harry had the energy to get up as early as Liam every morning, he’d make the healthy breakfast so Liam could have another half hour or so of pushups or sit-ups or whatever morning workout he decides to do.

But, he doesn’t, and so almost every morning, they all have some form of over-cooked scrambled eggs, with some sort of healthy bread and fresh juice that is almost always orange juice.

Not that he or any of the others mind. And Liam even makes enough for the bus driver to have a healthy breakfast too, the gentleman.

They eat in silence, mostly because everybody, besides Liam, is too tired to try and make conversation.

-

Later, three fourths of the way through the eighty sit-ups Liam had talked them all into doing, Harry’s mop of hair is dripping with sweat onto his shoulders, matted to his forehead and neck, and his middle is burning like no other.

But he always pushes through, unlike Niall who gave up just a little before and Zayn who gave up about half way through. Louis is still going, though he’s struggling more than Harry would like to see, and Liam’s already done with his sit-ups. He’s now doing squats for fun, _for fun_ , the weirdo, as he waits for Harry and Louis to get done.

They both push it out until the end. Harry’s thigh muscles burn a little, his abs burning _a lot_ , but nothing he hasn’t felt and handled before. He’s not even having any asthma problems. If anything, Louis is having breathing problems, panting like no other, hands twitching as he chugs down a whole water bottle, and he’s got Harry worried.

Crawling over and not caring that he’s all sweaty, Harry wraps around Louis’ sweaty body and forces his own unopened bottle of water into Louis’ hands. Louis needs it more than he does.

Louis looks at Harry like he’s the sun itself, then chugs down that water too. His panting has gone down to deep breaths now and he’s not shaking as much. Harry reaches over and tugs his shirt off, and they all know it’s not in a sexual way; he just wants Louis too cool off, no matter how hot and parched he is.

“Thanks babe,” Louis murmurs in a very rough voice. Harry’s insides flutter from how _wonderful_ Louis sounds. He pushes those thoughts away instantly.

“Always,” Harry says back, and he sounds just as bad (sexy) as Louis does, throat and mouth itchy from how dry it is. He scoots away, a little, since they are both radiating heat, and Louis sighs with another thankful look.

“Stop being so cute,” Niall grumbles while throwing his empty water bottle in their direction. It lands two feet away from Harry’s and Louis’ legs.

Liam falls back on his bum after squatting down and says to Niall, “You have no room to talk.”

If Niall’s cheeks weren’t already red he’d probably be blushing like mad. Nobody really knows what’s going on between them; Niall says they’re just messing around, Liam refuses to say anything on the subject, but they always get blushy and giddy whenever the other compliments them, so Harry knows it’s more than just fooling around. Even if they don’t realize it, they will eventually.

“All of you stop being so goddamned cute, okay?” Zayn speaks up for the first time this morning besides the grumbling when Liam said sit-ups. He’s smiling though, so they all know he’s not really mad. “And yes,” he continues before Harry can get the words out of his mouth. “I do have room to talk because I’m not cute.”

“Yes you are,” Louis says stubbornly at the same time Niall asks, “Then what _are_ you?”

“I’m the sexy angel, as you all have said before, so therefore, I cannot be _cute_.”

Liam speaks as he stands and walks to the fridge. “You are when you’re asleep, with your cute snore and scrunched up nose.”

Zayn snorts like a pig, his nose scrunching up like it does, but he sounds like an old man with asthma. Niall and Harry both crack up. “I’m not asleep right now so I’m not cute right now,” Zayn argues and Liam rolls his eyes.

They’re all full of shit, really.

Harry steals one of the half water bottles from the fridge and brings it back to Louis, who excepts it with another smile. “You alright?” he asks while sitting down.

Louis nods, taking two large gulps of the cold water. “As long as Liam doesn’t make me do _eighty_ ever again, I think I’ll be alright.” His voice isn’t as rough, but it’s still as low, as before.

Liam chuckles, and Harry knows from the look in his eyes that he’ storing that information for later. He won’t let Liam ever talk Louis into doing eighty sit-ups ever again.

“You haven’t even had any water yourself, love,” Zayn says to Harry, and if it weren’t for the teasing lilt in his voice, Harry would’ve thought Zayn used the term just because.

He pushes a grimace down and shrugs, shaking his head in refusal when Louis tries to offer him the rest of the water. “I’ll get some myself later, you need that.”

“God, you’re too sweet, _Harriet_ ,” Liam plays along, hip resting against the counter, smirk on his face, and oh yeah. Right. That’s another name they’ve all been calling him lately. Wonderful. “Giving me cavities, you are.”

Louis’ trying to silence his chuckles, but Harry can still hear them. He rolls his eyes instead of responding, eyes trained on the floor.

They snap up when Niall joins in, voice deeper to help get his point across. “You’re the nicest Elvin princess in history. We might just let you go to war with us against the Orcs. Maybe some of your niceness will rub off on them and they’ll retreat from battle.”

Lord Of The Rings references. Great.

Ever since Niall and Liam watched those last week, along with The Hobbit Trilogy, they’ve been referencing them nonstop. It was only a matter of time before they laced it into the jokes they throw at Harry.

Liam’s snickering and Niall looks very proud. Harry kind of wants to throw up.

“Oh really? Would you actually let me travel outside of Mirkwood? What an honor!” Of course Harry plays along, putting on his best surprised and amused smile he can. He has to play along whenever they are all around, or otherwise they’ll know something is up and then he’ll have to lie which he hates doing more than he has to.

But. Whatever. Harry’s over it. Mostly.

Zayn cracks up now, clapping Harry on the shoulder as he walks by. “Yes ma’am. You’ll get to ride alongside prince Louis and King Liam as we make the three day trip – ”

Niall’s cackling interrupts Zayn, and Harry catches the water bottle Liam throws at him. Louis’ hand is resting at the small of his back now, eyes lit with amusement.

Harry laughs too, knowing it sounds convincing because he’s been able to perfect his fake laugh over the years. He gulps down half the water, but no more. The stinging in his throat, burning in his abs, help make the joking around not hurt so much.

Zayn disappears into the back and a moment later, the bathroom door is clicked shut.

The communal iPad on the couch lights up with a picture of Paul making a funny face. Louis had insisted they set Paul’s picture as that for whenever he wants to face time them. Harry grabs it and answers, and a moment later, Paul’s face comes into view.

“Harry, hi,” Paul says, and Harry is very thankful because the bantering is now done.

“Hey,” replies Harry, dragging Louis up to sit on the couch with him. He sets the iPad on its stand on the table while Niall slides in on the other side of Harry. Liam pokes his head in on Louis’ side for a few seconds before he goes back to sit on the counter.

“Zayn still asleep?” Paul guesses after a few silent moments.

Louis answers, “No, in the bathroom,” and Paul nods.

“Well,” he starts. “We’re about five minutes away from the hotel, so you should probably change into non sweaty clothes and wear hats or something.”

Harry looks outside the window and sees that yes, they are, in fact, driving through Charlotte. When he looks back, Paul is looking at his phone. He nods before looking back up at the boys. “Make sure all your stuff is together. Might as well bring everything in since we’re staying for four and a half days. Plus, I’ve found a company that has offered to clean out the bus for half the price, as long as we give them tickets for their children for the show tomorrow.”

“That’s a lot of tickets to be giving away,” Liam says from off screen.

“It’s a small company; owned by two sisters and each only has two children. A boy and a girl each, so… Anyways, I’ve got to finish getting everybody packed so make sure to tell Zayn, alright.”

Before anybody can answer, the screen goes black. Paul never really says proper goodbyes unless it’ll be a while before they see each other again, like if they’re on break or something.

Niall and Liam both make their way into the back. Louis’ arm comes around Harry’s shoulders and Harry snuggles close, nosing at Louis’ collarbone and adding a few kisses here and there. “Stop that,” Louis scolds lightly, tugging on one of Harry’s curls. “Wait until we settle into the hotel, at the very least, alright?”

“And after we’ve showered,” Harry adds.

“Or maybe in the shower.” Harry nods, agreeing, when Liam comes out with his large suitcase and smaller bag, fresh clothes on. They’re all mostly packed, besides the few articles of clothing here and there, but Harry had picked most of them up the night before while in search of his scarves.

Louis and Harry both stand and stretch when Niall comes out, his own things in tow, also dressed in clean clothes. They squeeze by Zayn and his things on the way to their bunks, and then it takes them two minutes to stuff everything in either of their suitcases and change.

The only stuff that’s left behind is a few things that can go in the trash.

Harry pulls on a beanie that matches the new sweatpants he’s wearing, and then they all pile out of the stopped bus. No fans are outside, no screaming or anything, which is nice. It means they make it into the hotel rather quickly, and up the elevators in no time at all.

This hotel has master suits at the top; each has three rooms with their own bathrooms, a large outside deck, a very wonderful looking kitchen that Harry can’t wait to use, and a large living room area complete with an entertainment system and two different couches that look very comfortable.

Zayn runs to look at all the rooms first and ends up choosing the one with light blue and dark wood and a very large window. Harry doesn’t care what room he and Louis have, as long as it has a bed and a big enough bathtub for the both of them.

Thankfully, the other two are just like Zayn, and have what Harry requires. The one Liam and Niall pick has dark red and chrome themes, which doesn’t look as bad as it sounds, which leaves the last one.

Louis’ already inside unpacking the clothes he and Harry both need washed into one pile, along with the clothes he and Harry be wearing for the rest of the stay here. Taking a look around, Harry first notices the green walls. He’s always been interested in the décor of everywhere he goes.

Louis teased him about it once, a long time ago, but he lets Harry do all the decorating of their home so Harry isn’t mad.

If there had ever been a time Harry was glad Louis offered to sort their clothes out, it would be now. Louis sorts quickly and doesn’t always get everything the right way. But that’s alright because Harry needs him to be quick right now.

They get in the shower in no time at all, standing under the spray together, kissing, in wait for the water to heat up all the way. Louis lets Harry wash his hair; he always does. Harry loves Louis’ hair and he loves making Louis’ hair smell like his shampoo. Louis pokes him in the tummy and giggles out, “Berry blast, freaking fruity princess,” and Harry doesn’t mind for once, after hearing Louis _giggle_ , seeing his eyes crinkled shut, nose and mouth turned up in the cutest smile.

In return, Harry lets Louis wash his body, after he washes his own hair. Louis’ wonderful hands work the soapy flannel across Harry’s skin. He starts with Harry’s neck, scrubbing a little at the skin, sucking kisses along his collarbone.

By the time Louis’ done, Harry’s half hard. Of course he is; Louis had taken his sweet time washing across his chest and sucking on his nipples a bit, then the same for his thighs and bum. The rest he washed quickly, then had Harry stand under the spray to wash away the last remnants of soap as he sucked a bruise into Harry’s bum cheek.

Harry’s wrapped in a fluffy towel, waiting by the sink as Louis quickly washes himself down too. He’s already dried off, but standing completely naked in the steamy room is making Harry a bit chilly. He waits in silence, then wraps another towel around Louis as soon as he’s out.

“Thanks babe,” Louis mumbles. Harry smiles, letting Louis pull him forward for a quick kiss. He jumps when Louis pinches his bum, and Louis says, “Go wait on the bed for me, yeah?” Then after Harry’s half way to the bed, almost tripping from how fast he’s going – he’s excited, okay? – Louis calls out, “Make sure you’re still hard!”

Yeah, Harry can do that.

He drops the towel on the floor before climbing up into their large, very plush bed. Pushing the top blanket and sheet to the end of the bed, almost off, Harry settles down on his back, hand already pumping himself to full hardness.

Louis takes a particularly long time and Harry knows he’s teasing on purpose. He keeps quiet, though. He wants to get off with Louis without… how should he put this? Without Louis getting all dominant and not letting him come or making him come until he’s dry.

He loves that, loves when Louis gets dominant and pushes him to his limits, but that’s not what he wants right now.

Right now, Harry wants sweet, vanilla sex, or whatever people call it.

So he stays quiet, forcing both of his hands to fist in the sheet, spreading his legs wide so he’s on perfect display.

Louis comes out one hundred and sixty three seconds later, not that Harry counted, and he’s hard too. Harry can’t keep his eyes from travelling all over Louis’ wonderful body, all tan and smooth.

He isn’t aware he had been biting his lip until Louis is sat on the bed between his legs and his fingers come up to pull Harry’s bottom lip free. “Mine,” Louis murmurs as he leans forward and connects their lips. He bites Harry’s lip as demonstration and Harry squirms.

“Yours,” Harry whispers back, already sounding out of breath. That is what Louis does to him, already managing to have Harry hot and panting with only a few kisses.

“So pretty, y’know that?” Harry nods, poking Louis’ chest a few times since his mouth is occupied by Louis’ again. Louis pulls away, sitting back and staring down with wide eyes. “Is that your way of saying I’m pretty too?”

“Couldn’t really talk,” Harry shrugs and smiles when Louis smiles.

“No, you couldn’t, huh?” Harry shakes his head and he oddly feels like a little child right then. Up until Louis gets a hand around him, punching a small yelp from Harry’s mouth when he flicks his wrist just the right way.

Harry’s hips jump up on their own accord, and Louis must’ve got the message that Harry didn’t want to play because he only smiles and places a kiss to Harry’s tip. If they were playing, he would’ve delivered a quick slap to Harry’s thigh and dropped his cock.

“What do you want, babe?” Louis asks in the sweetest voice ever.

A moment later, Harry feels a finger rubbing around his hole and he shuts his eyes, nodding. It’s been too long since Louis has fucked him. Okay, only a week, but it’s felt like a _year_ for Harry. Louis hums, keeping his finger there and rubbing for a few moments longer, before he sits back. No part of him is touching Harry and Harry does not like that. He closes his legs a little so they’re pressed to Louis.

“Didn’t clean yourself properly, though…” And before Harry can suggest it, “And you know I hate condoms.”

He rolls his eyes and another reason is added to the list of reasons he’s glad they aren’t playing right now. “Fuck my face then,” he offers, because he needs Louis to fuck him in some way or another. If not in the bum, then the mouth.

“Yeah?” Louis asks. His finger comes up to trial across Harry’s bottom lip. Harry nods, some of his damp hair getting in his face. Louis pushes it out of the way but keeps his fingers tangled in it as he crawls up to straddle Harry’s chest. “Are you ever going to cut your hair?”

Harry’s eyes snap up from where they were trained on Louis’ hard cock not three inches from his face. He frowns and shrugs. He likes his hair the way it is; who cares how long it is? Maybe he’ll grow it out to his bum and Louis will have something else besides his ties and Harry’s scarves to tie Harry’s wrists.

Harry says as much, making Louis throw his head back in one of his wonderful laughs that only he and the boys have heard. When he looks back down, Harry is smiling again and Louis rubs his fingers over Harry’s bottom lip again, coaxing his mouth open.

The first thing Harry gets is a drop of precome to his lip. He swallows it down wraps his lips around the head of Louis’ cock. He smells and tastes clean and Harry’s eyes flutter shut at how perfect Louis is, as he starts feeding Harry more.

Louis goes slow at first, like he always does. He lets Harry get used to the feeling of his jaw being open like this, lips being stretched, and Harry is ever so thankful.

He works his tongue as much as he can, lapping at the head when Louis pulls out far enough, pressing it to the veins along the underside of Louis’ dick when he goes deeper.

Louis’ squinting his eyes in concentration, his own lip caught between his teeth, and Harry tries keeping his eyes open enough to stare up into Louis’. Louis gets the message and, taking his hand that isn’t tangled in Harry’s, he holds onto the headboard as he pumps his hips forward.

Harry closes his eyes when Louis hits the back of his throat, taking a deep breath, relaxing as much as he can. He gets a hand around his cock and pumps a few times while Louis pushes deeper, slipping into his throat.

Just like he had done when he first fed his cock to Harry’s mouth, Louis goes slow, pulling out far enough for Harry take in deep breaths with his nose so he, yet again, gets used to the feeling. Louis’ always been so considerate about things like this. He always has to make sure Harry is okay.

It’s a big reason why he loves Louis so much. He doesn’t think he could be in a relationship where his partner didn’t take care of him as much as Louis does. Even when they’re playing, Louis will stop multiple times just to make sure Harry is okay and he always takes the best care of Harry after. Harry is the kind of person who loves cuddles after sex, and Louis gives him exactly that.

He’s wonderful and Harry loves him with all his heart.

Soon, Louis’ got his balls pressed to Harry’s chin, Harry’s nose pressed to Louis’ very sparse but very soft pubic hair. Harry can’t breathe but he likes it like that, sometimes. Especially since Louis knows when to pull out when it’s starting to get to be too much.

“Alright?” asks the blue eyed boy above him. Harry notes the way his eyes are blown wide, just like they always are whenever Harry lets Louis do this.

Harry nods, his tongue coming out to flick across Louis’ slit. Louis releases a sharp breath and pushes right back in, all the way, and stays there for just two seconds longer than before, five seconds total. It’s not even the longest he’s cut Harry’s breath off for, no, that was for nine seconds and Louis pulled out immediately as Harry tapped his thigh. He had freaked out, thought he hurt Harry, and didn’t let Harry suck him off for a whole month.

They’ve gotten better at communication now. Louis knows that when Harry taps his thigh, it’s not because he’s hurting Harry. Harry taps his thigh just before it starts to get a little harder, so Louis knows to pull out soon. If Louis ever stays in for too long, which has never happened and never will happen, so long as they pay attention, Harry knows to grab him by the hips and push him away.

It’s something that happened by accident once. Louis had been in the exact position he’s in now, pushing his cock in and out of Harry’s mouth at a somewhat fast rhythm, and when he had came, he pushed in deep and stayed, coming down Harry’s throat and cutting off his air supply. Harry, though he had barely been touched twice the whole night, had came instantly, painting Louis’ bum and his own stomach.

It had been one of the most intense orgasms of his life, since not enough oxygen was making it into his blood, and they’ve sort of played around with that a bit since then. Sort of, though. It’s not a constant thing.

Plus, Harry has gotten sort of used to it by now, so he doesn’t come right away anymore.

“Fuck.” Harry opens his eyes and looks up. Louis’ eyes are shut tight, face drawn up in pleasure. He’s got both hands on the headboard now and so far, he’s been able to keep a steady rhythm, not too fast, but not slow either.

 _Perfect_ , Harry thinks, and he would smile if it wasn’t for the dick hitting the back of his throat constantly.

Harry has no gag reflex, literally. He had went to his pediatrician for his annual checkup when he was little and it had been confirmed then: no, Harry Styles does not have a gag reflex.

Louis nearly came the moment Harry told him that, the day after they released their first album.

Just like he’s probably going to any second now. Harry knows how Louis gets before he comes. He loses rhythm, his hips shaky and mouth quivering. Harry decides to help him along, closing his lips tighter and sucking, licking around, just like he would do if this were a normal blowjob.

Louis absolutely loses it, gasping, eyes flying open to look at Harry like he can’t believe he’s real. “Fuck, Harry,” he moans, quietly though. They don’t know just how soundproof these walls really are, and the others probably already know what’s going on. No need to be loud enough for them to hear.

Harry’s been jerking off this whole time and he feels almost as close as Louis is. The muscles in his stomach keep jumping and contracting and Harry can feel the burn in the pit of his stomach.

“Don’t come,” Louis gasps out, shaking so much if Harry weren’t Harry, he’d think Louis would literally fall apart. Harry’s eyes jump up and he stops, stays completely still and stares up at Louis with his eyebrows furrowed. When Louis sees, he’s quick to explain. “No, no. That’s not what I meant. We aren’t playing right now, I’m not going to not let you come… Yet. I wanna suck you off too.”

His breath hitches, voice cracks, so many times Harry almost laughs. Yeah, alright. Louis can suck him off. Harry takes his hands away from himself, fisting them in the sheets, and lifts his head to suck Louis the rest of the way down,

Louis absolutely loses it, whining and shuddering as he comes. He spills into Harry’s mouth, getting some on his lip as he pulls out quickly, not wanting to choke Harry.

Harry only swallows a little, letting the taste and scent overtake him. He flutters his eyes shut and hums, before opening them back up. He and Louis lock eyes instantly and without missing a beat, Harry grabs Louis by the hips and flips him around.

Louis’ magnificent bum is in Harry’s face as he feels Louis’ magnificent lips wrap around his cock. Won’t be long now. Fuck, this already feels so good. Harry’s hips jump up and Louis lets him, pushes down harder, sucking harder.

To distract himself, since he doesn’t want to come just yet, Harry kneads his fingers in the soft, tan flesh of Louis’ thighs, making his way up to Louis’ bum. Humming, Harry lifts his head up and licks a stripe across Louis’ hole, causing Louis’ come to fall out and onto his own hole.

Louis makes a noise and Harry does too, though he’s much louder. Seeing Louis’ come seeping down over his own hole is a sight he never thought he would want to see, but now that he’s watching it, it’s a sight he might want to see every day for the rest of his life.

Louis pushes down further and Harry hits the back of his throat. Louis gags a little, which has Harry whimpering and he surges up again to lick at Louis’ hole some more.

“Harry,” Louis gasps as he pulls off with a very sexy sounding _pop!_ “What’re you doing?”

“’M not gonna stick my tongue in you, god,” Harry says, although he really wants to. Instead, he continues kissing and sucking over Louis’ rim, feeling it flutter against his lips. Louis hadn’t properly cleaned himself out either, and Harry knows Louis will freak out if he tries anything. Louis always gets so paranoid about whether or not he’s perfectly clean.

Harry won’t, though. He knows Louis cleaned himself, so he knows it’s safe to lick him here. But he also knows Louis takes a whole hour when he wants to properly do things and he doesn’t want to risk anything either.

Louis gets a hand around the base of Harry’s cock and sucks hard, tonguing at the slit a little rougher than necessary. Harry likes it, though, and Louis knows as much.

With a quick shout and very shaky hips, Harry comes down Louis’ throat, head thrown back on the pillows with a sigh as he comes.

When he looks up, he almost laughs at the mess he’s made. Louis’ come and Harry’s saliva coat Louis’ bum and Harry’s mouth and cheeks. He would laugh, except Louis’ still half hard, not really having gone down all the way since he came before, and the door just so happens to open right then also.

Harry looks over, about to tell the person to get out, when he sees it’s only Niall, and he just so happens be covering his eyes. He also has a plate with chocolate cake slices on it and a small smile playing at his lips. “I can’t see so I can’t set this down anywhere…”

“Here,” Louis jumps up and Harry’ suddenly cold. He’s about to grab for the blanket when he remembers the mess and decides against it. Just until they clean off with some tissues or a flannel or something.

Louis sets the plate on the bedside table, grabbing a tissue to wipe his hands off and walking back to Niall. Harry watches as his boyfriend, while making sure to not be seen by anybody outside of the door, takes Niall by his shoulders and leads him back to the hallway. When they both see Niall about to protest, Louis speaks up. “My hands are clean, I promise. Thanks for the cake.”

“Yeah, alright. You’re welcome,” Niall says back. Before Louis has a chance to shut the door, though, he says, “There’s also some ice cream out here, whenever you two are done.”

“Thanks Ni,” Louis pats him on the shoulder. Harry swipes a clean finger through some frosting and sucks it off. It’s very sweet. “We’re done anyways. Just have to get some clothes on.”

“So you’ll be out soon? Zayn is Skyping with Pez and Liam went down to check out the gym.”

“Of course he did,” Harry mutters through a smile.

“I heard that,” Niall calls.

“Anyways,” Louis cuts them both off. “Yeah, we’ll be out in a minute or two, alright?”

Niall says something back and though he can’t see him, Harry can hear Niall walking back down the hall. He sits up and stretches, smiling when Louis’ eye go wide. “I knew that wasn’t just spit,” he says, fond playing through his eyes.

Harry shrugs. “Oh well.”

-

The concert the next day goes wonderfully, in Harry’s opinion. Besides when he had gotten pinched on the bum multiple times, Harry would say his night has been perfect.

Especially when, after spending the night out with Niall at a pub for publicity, Harry gets back to his and Louis’ hotel room to find Louis still awake, only wearing one of Harry jumpers, hand around his hard cock.

That night, Harry and Louis don’t fall asleep until four in the morning, which would be a problem, mostly. But they’re in… Charlotte, Harry thinks is the name of the city, for four days. At the same venue, mind you, so they don’t have to go through a tour of the venue, a rundown of the show multiple times, and a meeting with every one of the staff members.

Which also means that they get to sleep until Liam wakes them five hours before the show so they can shower and actually eat something before leaving the hotel. Harry is thankful for him the most. Until, with Niall failing miserably to not laugh next to him, Liam pulls out a pad, of all things, and throws it at Harry with a wink and, “Here you go sweetie. Don’t forget to take some of that cramps medicine I bought you!”

God knows where Liam got that from.

Harry can’t bring himself to care about that, though, because at least it’s still in the wrapper. Picking it up, he throws it in the bin and walks into the back of the bus, his bunk seeming like much better company than those two.

He doesn’t even know where Louis and Zayn are off too, let alone anyone else.

Which means he’s left alone to sulk in the deepest corner of his bunk he can manage. He hadn’t bothered to pull the curtain, but it’s not like that matters. If anybody were to walk by, they’d most likely think that he’s asleep.

It’s just.

A pad? Really? Of all the things they could’ve done to remind Harry that he’s not normal, that’s what they picked. And Liam, of all people.

Liam’s never done anything this bad before, has never made Harry want to cry. The only time Harry’s ever gotten to the point where he’s swallowing hard enough to hurt while trying to make his tears go away, had been the jeggings incident.

He just doesn’t understand sometimes. Why can’t they see how much their joking hurts him? Even if – _though_ they don’t, because Harry doesn’t blame them for not noticing that, why did the “joking” really have to be longer than just a few weeks? Before it eventually got old and everybody dropped it? Because four fucking years is a long time to keep a “joke” going.

Harry won’t put any of them at fault for it. He didn’t tell them like he should’ve, after they became a band and he’d gained their trust. If he’d have told them, yeah they might still joke, but they would also understand that it actually means something to Harry and they wouldn’t do something like _throw a fucking pad at him_. They wouldn’t even bat an eyelash at him coming back from hanging out with Gemma for the day with nail polish staining his nails.

Nothing is their fault, and Harry knows this. He has no right to be mad at Liam, and at Niall for laughing. He has no right _at all_ to sometimes feel like running away with his sister to he can be free from everything.

Yet, he still is, and he still does. And it all hurts. It just hurts and he should probably call his sister before he has a mental break down, like he knows he’s on the verge of, like he has almost had multiple times before.

He doesn’t know what time it is for her, and he already feels guilty, knowing it could be night time, if not, close. He’s about to hang up, but then his sister answers with a very awake and happy sounding voice. “Harry!” she greets, and she sounds like she maybe just took a bite. “You lucky sap called right before I was about to have a boring night to myself and a movie.”

Alright, so Harry doesn’t feel guilty anymore. Unless it was that new If I Stay movie that they’ve both been wanting to see, but it’s not even out on DVD, Netflix, or Hulu. He would know.

“Hey,” he greets, hating how weak he sounds. He has to stay quiet as to not alert the others, which only makes him sound weaker and more on the verge of crying himself shitless.

Harry hears shuffling on the other line and then it’s silent, before, “Harry, babe. What’s wrong?” She sounds ten times more serious, now, and very worried.

“I just… I miss you,” he says instead of answering, because he doesn’t think he could say anything without actually crying. And crying would only prove everybody’s point that he is a girl.

“Aw, sweetie,” Gemma sounds sad now, along with hints of anger, and Harry couldn’t love her more. “I miss you too and I can and will beat somebody’s arse.”

A chuckle, albeit sad and rung out, escapes Harry’s lips. He sniffles and rubs at his eyes hard enough to hurt, but they’re dry now, so there’s that. “No. It’s…”

“I’m serious, love. They can’t keep treating you like this. When you get back I’m – ” Suddenly, she gasps, then she sounds even angrier than before. “It better not have been Louis. I swear to god, I will kick his arse so – ”

“No, no it wasn’t,” Harry assures, though he’s smiling at how funny Gemma sounds when angry. Also, at the fact that he knows he’ll always have her no matter what. “It wasn’t him. Just. Everybody and everything adding up.”

“But someone must have set this off,” she has a point. Harry decidedly stays quiet. “It was the very same when you called me the last time and was like this. Zayn had put make up on your face when you were asleep and made you look like prettier version of – ”

“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupts, because Harry doesn’t want to remember that, doesn’t want it playing out in his head like it already is. He sighs, and says, “But you would be the same way if your best friend threw a pad at you and told you to take your cramp medicine.”

Gemma gasps, loud enough to made Harry wince and hope that he had slid the divider between the rooms shut.

“It was Liam,” he adds after nothing but silence, hoping Gemma will actually _say something_ , instead of staying quiet and making Harry feel worse and worse every second that ticks by. “And Niall was there too.”

“I can’t believe this,” she mutters, and now she sounds absolutely pissed, but also a little choked off. Confirming Harry thinking that she might have teared up a bit, his sister lets out a small sound and whispers, “I’m going to fucking kill them.” There’s no heat behind it, but only because she’s choked up with tears now also. If she weren’t, she’d sound even more pissed and would probably make Harry laugh.

As it is, she only succeeds in making Harry’s eyes water even more, the back of his throat burning like hell. “I know,” he says for lack of anything better to say. It’s out of his mouth before he even thinks about it, and he’s happier than ever. “Come out tomorrow. To North Carolina.”

There is a noticeable pause, then, “Really?” she asks, like she doesn’t believe him one bit.

Harry can’t help the way his voice comes out in a pleading manner, can’t help how needy he sounds, how selfish he’s being right now. She probably has work or something. Even still, “Yes. _Please_ , yes. We leave for Atlanta in two days. I can book you a flight to somewhere close out here, or maybe to New York and then down here. I’ll take care of everything, just _please_.”

“Well, I only have two classes between now and the ninth, one of which is on the eighth, so I’d only be missing one class, really…”

 _Please, please, please_ , Harry chants in his head, already feeling marginally better at the possibility of seeing his sister before the tour is even over.

“Make sure to book to first flight that will get me out there the fastest because I really want to hug you,” she continues, and Harry would jump like a little kid if he weren’t curled up in his bunk. He still does a pathetic fist pump and makes a very happy, yet still washed out, sound. “I’ll start packing right now. I am staying for the remainder, right?”

“Of course,” answers Harry. He feels lighter, now, knowing he’ll be able to hug Gemma whenever he wants to by this time the next day. “To both. I’ll have to go tell Paul, but I know he won’t mind.”

“Good. But I am telling mum, just so you know.” Harry sighs. “About me coming out to the states _and_ about what happened.”

Harry understands. If Gemma hadn’t answered the phone, he would’ve just turned right around and called his mum anyways. “I know. But, hey. I really do have to go before they start looking for me. We have to get inside for sound check soon…”

Gemma sighs, and there’s shuffling from the other line. Harry can picture seeing her with her blue suitcase, pulling out clothes from her closet and carelessly tossing them in. “Alright. But Harry, you need to make sure to not let them get to you anymore. At least, not until I get there.”

“I will. I usually do,” he promises.

When they hang up, Harry wipes his face away, slipping into the bathroom to make sure he looks okay enough to be in the presence of others. Louis might notice, but Harry can easily say he’d been a little homesick and called his sister, which would be true. He is homesick and he did call his sister.

Plus, he’s much better now that he knows for sure he gets to see his sister.

Harry takes a few minutes to pull his laptop out and book a flight for Gemma. A few minutes after he puts the laptop away, his sister texts, saying she got everything in her email and is about to print them off right now.

The rest of the bus is empty, Harry notes as he makes his way out. He can already hear the crowds of people, but thankfully, venues always have enclosed areas for the buses and everything to park, so nobody sees him.

It’s not until he’s made it inside and down a couple of hallways, that he sees the first proof of life, in the form of Paul.

“Harry,” Paul greets with a smile. “You’ve been gone for quite a while.”

“Quick nap in the bus,” replies Harry. “Hey, can you organize for a car to be at the airport tomorrow?”

Paul looks up from the iPad he’s been clicking at, eyebrows quirked in curiosity. “And why do we need a car at the airport tomorrow?”

“Gemma’s coming in tomorrow, and hopefully for the rest of the tour?” His voice tilts up at the end in question, hoping Paul will have no objections.

Much to Harry’s delight, Paul’s expression sooths over into something akin to fond. “Of course,” he says, making Harry the happiest person to ever walk the planet. “If you promise to keep all of the boys locked in the suite, I can go with the driver to make sure she makes it alright and everything.”

“Yes, yes. I promise. I can probably just offer them vodka and a How I Met Your Mother marathon.”

“Good. Now go let Lou do your hair. Don’t want to be late for sound check.”

With that, Harry gives Paul the biggest hug, then is off to find the purple haired woman who will probably scold him for a whole ten minutes for laying down in the middle of the day and letting his curls getting matted to the side.

It’ll be worth it.

-

The concert goes wonderfully, and Harry is so excited after, about having such a great show and about seeing his sister the next day, that he tackles Louis to the bed the instant they’re back to the hotel, and gives Louis the best handy he can manage. Louis compliments him so many times, after, while returning the favor but with his mouth.

It’s one of the best nights he’s had in a while.

-

“Why’re you so excited?” Niall quips from the other couch, eyes trained on Harry’s bouncing leg.

He stills immediately, then smiles even wider when Louis’ hand comes to a rest on his knee. It’s been an hour since Paul snuck out of the hotel, and two minutes since Gemma said she could see the hotel from the car.

Shrugging, Harry turns his attention back to the screen, only to snort when he sees Barnie in a scuba suit. Only him.

Harry’s always wanted to meet NPR in real life, has wanted to meet his husband and their children too. One day, he’ll convince Paul to set something up. Maybe they could accidentally run into each other on the streets, or they could give Neil free tickets to their last show or something. What if –

There’s a beep, indicating the lock to the door has been unlocked, and Harry shoots up. Paul stalks in first, setting Gemma’s blue suitcase down, then in comes Gemma and Harry nearly trips while tackling her into a hug.

She’s warm and Harry almost starts crying just from being able to see her, finally.

He can hear the boys’ voices and footsteps as they make their way over, but he doesn’t let go. Only one voice matters the most to him, right now, and that’s Gemma’s, whispering loving things in his ear. “… love you sooo much.”

Harry sniffles. “Love you too,” he replies, not so quiet. He doesn’t care.

“Gemma,” one of the boys, Zayn, Harry thinks, says.

Sighing, Harry whispers, “Guess I’d better let you go, huh? Promise not to kill them, alright?”

“Only for now,” then she kisses his temple and lets go.

He doesn’t turn back right away, only so he can wipe his face of anything, but when he does, Gemma has already hugged all of them, and is now engulfed in Louis’ arms. Over her shoulder, Louis glares an I-can’t-believe-you-didn’t-tell-me-she-was-coming glare, and he only shrugs.

“It’s nice to see you all too,” she greets with the most real smile ever. In her eyes, though, Harry can see the small bowl of bubbling anger, and is thankful she is just as good as him at hiding her emotions. Continuing, she steps back to wrap an arm around Harry’s waist. “But if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be stealing my brother away now.”

Harry leads her to his and Louis’ room, locking the door behind him before he’s being pulled into another bone crushing hug. “You’re lucky I love you, and therefore, your band mates also. Otherwise I would’ve ripped all of their heads off right then and there.”

“I hope you don’t mean literally.”

“Well of course not,” she scoffs, and Harry follows her to the bed, pulling her in for a very much needed cuddle. “You know I hate blood. But I would’ve yelled at them until they wanted to rip their own heads off.”

Chuckling, Harry says, “I love you.”

He doesn’t want to talk right now, and Gemma seems to understand this, as she doesn’t say anything else on the topic. Before crawling under the (clean, thank you cleaning service) sheets, she kicks her shoes off, and then Harry has warm arms around him and soft hair in his face that smells like home, and he couldn’t be happier.

“Nap time,” she mumbles, tapping Harry’s back a couple of times with her fingers.

Harry kisses her forehead, and stays quiet; he knows not to be loud while Gemma is asleep. It’s always been a rule, and nobody wants to be loud while she’s asleep unless it’s actually time to get up. Nobody ever.

Harry has experienced that twice. Never again.

-

Harry wakes – because Gemma felt so comfortable and so much like home that he’d managed to fall asleep too – with Louis’ fingers in his hair, tickling behind his ear, and Louis’ humming vibrating through his chest against Harry’s back.

It’s wonderful waking up like this, but Harry’s pretty sure he fell asleep with Gemma cuddled to his front, not Louis cuddled to his back.

He gets his answer when he hears his sister’s voice travelling through the half open door, saying something along the lines of how hungry she is. Harry is still so sleepy he can barely make it out, but he just barely hears Zayn’s mumbled response of offering to order something from room service for her.

That makes Harry smile, knowing how much the boys love and respect Gemma. They’re to total opposite with her than they are with Harry himself. With Gemma, they are always buying her things and doing whatever she wants for her. With Harry, they’re always the ones asking him to do something for them.

Not that that’s much of a surprise. That’s how they all are to each other’s siblings, and that’s how it’s always been with them. Asking Harry to do something for them or with them because they know he can’t say no to them.

The only person everybody will do anything for, no matter what, is Niall. Harry would sell his soul twice over if it meant Niall being able to live, or something like that.

Harry would sell his soul twice over for anybody in the band, along with his mum and sister, and any of the boys’ families. He’d sell it three times for Louis.

But that does make sense. Louis is the love of his life, his soul mate, and Harry really isn’t trying to be sappy, but what else describes how Harry feels towards Louis?

Sure, Louis is his boyfriend, but Harry loves Louis so much it hurts sometimes. There is literally no other person in the whole universe that could ever replace Louis. Every single time Harry imagines his future, Louis is always in it. Whether it be living with Harry in Italy and married to him with two kittens, or, well anything.

Even if Harry dies before Louis, Louis will still be in his life because Harry plans on coming back as a ghost and taking care of Louis, even though Louis won’t know it.

Harry loves Louis so much it should be impossible, yet it isn’t. And even though Louis has hurt him, unintentionally, and continues to do so whenever he joins in on the boys’ teasing, Harry is never able to love Louis any less. If anything, he loves Louis a little more every time it happens.

Even if that doesn’t make sense.

Thinking about Louis and how much he loves Louis reminds Harry that Louis is right here, spooning him and sucking a small bruise in behind Harry’s ear on the left side so that Harry’s hair and scarves will cover it.

It’s nothing more than a sweet gesture, coupled with the slightest hint of possessiveness, and it makes Harry hum and press his head further against the pillow. This way his neck is more visible, skin stretched tight and more inviting.

Louis takes the invitation quite well, Harry would say, since he presses his lips right below the corner of Harry’s jaw,  littering feather-like kisses down until he gets to the point where Harry’s neck and shoulder meet. This has always been Louis’ favorite part of Harry’s neck, and Harry has to wiggle around to get Louis to stop sucking.

“No marks,” he whispers, panting, because Harry has always had a thing for when Louis plays with his neck. It’s just – it turns him on to no end and Harry doesn’t think his sister would take to well to him and Louis having sex right after she shows up.

Louis kisses one last time, settling back with his face buried in Harry’s hair. “Later, then,” he whispers, almost like he’s asking.

Harry knows he isn’t asking for permission, though, he’s asking for a promise of later. He also knows that he can promise just that, and he says, “Yeah, later.”

It’s almost a little too hot right now, but probably only because he’s still trying to make his semi go down.

Speaking just as quietly, Louis asks, “Why didn’t you tell me your sister was coming?” He doesn’t sound upset at all, more confused than anything.

“Was a surprise,” Harry shrugs. “Even though I basically stole her away right as she walked in.”

“We got hugs from her so that’s what counts. Plus she woke up a little over half an hour ago and we got to catch up with her.”

Harry doesn’t worry, because he knows Gemma wouldn’t do or say anything to the boys about… well.

“And you just now decided to come wake me up?” Harry asks, pressing his elbow back against Louis’ rib, though he’s not really upset about not being woken up earlier.

He can almost hear Louis roll his eyes, that’s how much Harry knows Louis. With a short chuckle as a briefest of warnings, Harry feels Louis’ fingers pressing all over his sides and thighs and he can’t help the burst of giggles ripped out of him.

Harry tries to retaliate, but it’s hard. It’s always been hard. Louis has six younger siblings so he knows how to not get tickled while he’s tickling. Harry ends up squirming around so much that the covers get kicked to the floor and he laughs so much that Zayn pokes his head into the room.

“You didn’t tell us it’s tickle the princess time,” Zayn teases with a smirk, and Harry groans. It passes as a laugh, sort of, and Louis only tickles him harder. “Everybody get your arses in here!”

“No,” Harry barely gets out. Normally, Harry will let Louis tickle him until Louis has had enough or until he almost pisses himself, but he hates when all the boys gang up on him and tickles him until he actually does pee himself. He grabs both of Louis’ wrists, because Louis has never been one to not stop when Harry wants him to, and he throws Louis off back to his side of the bed.

Harry’s pretty sure he’s got tear tracks on his cheeks, but he makes no move to wipe them away as Niall, Liam, and Gemma trickle into the room after Zayn. His lungs feel tight and Gemma is shaking her head, though she’s got a glint in her eyes that Harry can’t quite place.

“Aw come on!” Niall jumps on the bed, slapping Louis’ shin. “Why’d you stop?”

“Because I don’t feel like getting yelled at by Paul if Harry pisses the bed,” Louis explains. Liam groans but he’s smiling.

“You stopped because everybody tickling Harry turns into everybody tickling everybody and you know this,” Zayn counters, raising his eyebrow as if he’s challenging Louis.

Harry really does have to pee, so while Louis and Zayn, and eventually Niall, bicker about tickle fights, Harry sneaks off to the bathroom.

When he comes back out, Niall, Gemma, and Liam have all left the room, and Louis and Zayn are sharing what looks to be some sort of soggy cereal or something. Weird. “That looks gross,” Harry points. He kisses Louis’ forehead on the way to the door, ruffling Zayn’s hair and earning a bum smack.

Gemma is sitting on the couch, legs tucked under her, and in her hand is a bowl of the same weird looking cereal. Liam is scrolling through movies on Netflix, and Niall is laying on the floor with his phone.

Harry sits next to his sister, leaning over to smell her food. “Get your sniffer out of my food, you mongrel,” she hisses, batting at his cheek until Harry finally sits back up.

The glint is still in her eyes, so Harry wraps an arm around her and gets comfortable, pressing his face to her neck. “What’s wrong?” he whispers just loud enough for her to hear.

She takes in a deep breath, sighing it out with her shoulders sagging. “Do they always call you princess like that?” she whispers back, and Harry is barely able to catch it.

Confused, Harry racks his brain. Then he remembers how Zayn had called him princess when he was still half in the doorway. Harry shrugs, making sure not to jostle her much, says, “Yeah. That’s what they call me the most, besides my real name.”

“Harry,” she groans, out loud now, and she is clearly irritated. From the corner of his eye, Harry sees both Liam’s and Niall’s head turn towards them.

Gemma’s eyes look furious when she looks him at him. Harry takes the bowl from her and sets it on the table, then takes her face in his hands hopes his eyes are pleading enough. Just in case, to make sure she understands that they can’t have this conversation here, he whispers, “Please.”

“Fine,” she snaps, quietly this time, and Harry knows she isn’t mad at him.

“Are you guys alright?” Niall’s voice comes from somewhere behind Harry.

Harry kisses his sister’s forehead and settles back into the couch, while Gemma sends a small in the direction of where the other two were sitting. “Will be, yeah.”

They buy it, thankfully, and turn back to whatever they had been doing before after offering smiles of their own.

Eventually, Louis and Zayn make their way out and settle, Louis next to Harry, and Zayn on the floor next to Niall.

Harry really hopes Gemma will be alright.

-

“Harry, fuck,” Louis mutters, pushing his fingers even deeper than before. Harry sort of keens while staying quiet and shudders against the wall. “So tight, fucking beautiful.”

Reveling in the way Louis’ two fingers curl perfectly inside of him, Harry bites the inside of his wrist. The hot spray of the shower on his side isn’t helping how hot he feels, how wonderfully hot he feels. Almost enough to maybe ignite in flames or something.

A strangled sound rips out of Harry’s throat as Louis’ fingers press hard to his prostate, curling and rubbing like it’s his second nature. He pants against the wall, trying to stay quiet.

Louis pulls his fingers almost all the way out, Harry clenching tight in hopes of making him stay, then he pushes them back in all the way, faster than before.

Harry is glad Louis regularly trims his nails down.

The feeling has Harry jerking and hissing, forehead smacking against the shower wall quite hard. “Ow,” he moans, because no matter how hard he hit his head, Louis’ fingers relentlessly stroking his prostate will always overpower any other feeling.

“Are you alright?” Louis asks, stopping all movement. Harry nods, using the leverage from his forearms pressed against the shower wall to press back onto Louis’ fingers. Louis’ free hand gripping his hips right stop him, because he’s never been able to deny Louis, even when Louis wants him to stop and he’s half way to orgasm.

“Yes,” Harry answers. He knows that’s what Louis wanted, for Harry to give an actual answer instead of nodding or whining. That’s always what Louis wants. He wants to make sure Harry is alright, is more than okay, whenever they’re doing anything. Especially when they’re having sex.

Harry can’t help the punch of guilt he feels when he’s reminded of how different he is, of how he has yet to tell Louis, of how half of the time he isn’t more than okay even when he says he is.

That never happens when they’re having sex, though, because everything is always 110% perfect when it comes to this. Even when Louis calls him his little princess.

Again, Harry speaks up, because Louis still hasn’t said anything, hasn’t moved a single muscle. Maybe. Harry can’t see him so he can’t tell if Louis has made a different face and therefore moving a face muscle. Louis does things to his brain whenever he so much as touches Harry in a more-than-platonic way.

“Yeah,” he hums, hoping to push back even a little bit. He succeeds by only a bit, Louis’ fingers half in, half out of him. But that’s alright. Harry’s always liked when Louis felt the need to hold him tight, either on the hips, or especially on the wrists. He’s always loved whenever Louis presses his thumbs so hard that he leaves bruises that don’t fade for two days. “I’m fine, more than. Just.”

“Alright,” Louis’ grip loosens on Harry’s body and Harry thinks Louis is going to continue, but he’s completely wrong. Louis removes himself from Harry completely, taking a couple of steps back.

Harry huffs out a breath and turns around, his hole clenching on nothing, sadly so. “What’re you doing?” he asks, trying to be grumpy, stern, but it comes out more breathy and desperate sounding.

“I’m not gonna let you hit your head against the wall,” Louis explains like it’ll all make sense to Harry instantly, which it doesn’t. Straightening, Harry watches as Louis steps out of the shower, toweling off quickly, then looking at Harry pointedly. “Come on.”

They had already showered the day’s grime from their hair and body, so Harry shuts the spray off and steps out himself, accepting the towel Louis offers to wrap around him. “So where are you going to fuck me then?” he asks, letting his curiosity get the best of him.

Louis’ eyes seem to get darker, if possible, and Harry can’t help the glance he spares at Louis’ hard cock, curved and red. God, he really wants it. Like, now please.

“Where ever you’d like, but it has to be in here,” Louis folds the two towels in half and spreads them on the floor in front of the counter. “Could fuck you here,” he pats the now cushioned floor. “Won’t hurt your knees too much.”

“No,” Harry decides. He kicks the towels around a bit until they are side by side, long ways, and he pulls Louis down to lay on his back. “Like this,” he says while straddling Louis’ hips.

“Don’t forget the lube,” Louis reminds him.

Harry reaches behind him and grabs the bottle from where it had landed on the floor, after Louis had used it for his fingers then threw it. He watches as Louis slicks himself up, fisting the base of his cock in excitement.

No matter how many times they do this, it never gets old. The excitement always surprises him, the way Louis carefully makes sure that he’s slick enough but not too much always gets Harry giddy.

“Alright, alright. I’m ready babe, go ahead,” Louis chuckles, and Harry ducks his head to bite his lip, but he lifts himself up. Even when Harry says he wants to do everything, Louis always helps with this, one hand on Harry’s hip while the other is holding his cock still, to help Harry go slow, to help him get used to the feeling.

“Nnngh!” Harry bites his tongue, head thrown back as Louis’ thick cock stretches him almost to the limit, like it always does. So much, but so good too, like he was made just for Harry’s bum.

Right. Unstable minds due to Louis happens to a lot of people, not just Harry, so he doesn’t embarrass easily from his thoughts.

Especially when Louis will sometimes get impatient. Like now, Louis’ hips punching up the last few inches, successfully making Harry cry out and fall forward. Wonderful, more than wonderful, really. Harry can never get enough of Louis being inside of him. It’s hard to, what with the way Louis always has surprises up his nonexistent sleeves.

Like grabbing Harry’s chin and turning him into a kiss, while Harry feels him shift until he’s in a good position to work his hips up and down in tiny increments, staying deep and at a torturously slow grind. “Lou,” he whispers, his own hips rocking back and somehow pushing Louis deeper.

“You said you wanted me to fuck you, earlier,” Louis says back, keeping up the pace of his slow grind. His cock is snuggled right against Harry’s prostate and he can’t help the whimpers leaving his throat. Louis’ fingers trail up from Harry’s hip, over his spine, and settle at the back of his neck. “So that means _I’m_ going to fuck _you_.”

Harry lifts his face from Louis’ neck, confused. His jaw drops at a particularly hard grind that sends tingles down to his toes, and Louis’ face lights up.

He doesn’t get his answer, as Louis finally starts thrusting. But that’s alright because Louis’ cock feels too good inside of him right now anyways, thick and warm and _there_.

They stopped using condoms seven months after their first time, after plenty of begging from Harry for them to both get tested for everything. Even though Harry had never been with nor done anything with anybody else, Louis had wanted to make sure.

Ever since, they’ve only used condoms a few times, whenever they want a quick fuck and didn’t have time that morning to properly clean all the way.

Harry is ever so grateful for that, right now and every time Louis is inside in, every time he’s inside Louis.

Whichever way they go, Harry always gets so hot he feels he’ll melt. The pleasure from Louis’ cock pouring through him is endless, and coupled with the slight pain from Louis’ fingertips pressing bruises into his skin, has Harry closer than he would like.

They both have great stamina. Louis had fucked him for almost two hours straight one time, making Harry come four times. Harry has held out for only, almost, an hour before, but whatever.

Despite the fact that Harry would like this to last longer, he had also promised his sister a midnight sneak out to McDonalds, and they don’t have much time before everybody else gets back from the late evening shopping spree Niall decided to drag them out too.

So, being close is alright.

Especially when Louis starts fucking him so hard even he is moaning, hot breaths right against Harry’s ear. It’s impossible to not come, but Harry pushes through it, rotating his hips to help Louis along. Louis inhales loudly, thrusting harder and faster.

Harry sits up a little, letting himself be bounced on Louis’ cock, only so he can see Louis’ face. Louis’ eyes are wide open, lips bitten raw, face flushed, and Harry moans from how sexy he looks. Louis smiles and, with his hand still holding the back of Harry’s neck, pulls Harry down into a kiss.

“Gonna come?” he asks, and Harry nods, sucking on Louis’ lip. Chuckling, Louis fucks up harder, snaking a hand between them to press the pad of his thumb right on Harry’s slit.

“Fuck,” Harry stutters, clutching Louis’ biceps like he might float away. His stomach is burning like fire, muscles jumping, toes curling. The relentless pace of Louis’ cock dragging over his prostate has already had him on edge for so long, and now with the added friction of Louis’ perfect playing with the head of his cock, Harry is on brink of orgasm right away.

“Me too,” admits Louis. His thumb drags over the thick vein on the underside of Harry’s cock. “You gotta come first, though. Need to feel your tight little hole get even tighter. Gonna fill you up so much.”

A shout rips through Harry and he comes all over Louis’ stomach, eyes rolling and body going limp.

Just like Louis had said, he comes hot and fast, but also a lot, deep inside Harry as soon as Harry’s breathing has calmed just by a fraction.

No matter what they are doing, Harry always slumps limp against Louis whenever he comes. At the same time, his stomach muscles and ass muscles tense up so tight it almost hurts.

Louis’ hips slow to a stop as they both come down, leaving both breathless and clutching tight to each other.

Harry might say it’s a coincidence when Niall’s loud knocking and voice comes filtering through from the bedroom door, if he weren’t so fucked out. “We’re back! You’d better be quiet!”

Louis’ yell startles Harry so much he yelps, quietly, though. Louis traces his fingers over Harry’s back in apology. “Don’t know what you’re on about!”

“Just get your arses out here!” Gemma’s voice now floats through.

Sighing, Harry sits up and Louis’ cock slips out. It’s a bit painful, but Harry only spares a small whimper before Louis is pulling them both up to stand. The towels are all sorts of messed up, the bottle of lube half spilled onto the floor, and Harry smiles.

He feels Louis’ come dripping down his thighs, sticky and warm.

Lucky for him, Louis is always nice enough to help clean him up and get him dressed.

Everybody, even Paul, is sitting on the couches when they finally venture out. The TV shows the FIFA game Liam and Zayn are playing, and they all look up.

“You could try to look a little less fucked,” Niall comments, Liam rolling his eyes and nudging Niall’s knee. Niall shrugs at him, though it’s with a slight blush. Harry ponders teasing back, because he knows that look. It’s a look Louis gives him whenever someone mentions anything about being/looking fucked out, and he’s somewhat surprised Liam is giving it to Niall.

Again, Louis says, “Don’t know what you’re on about,” while pulling Harry to sit on his lap in the one empty space next to Niall. Zayn, Paul, and Gemma are all on the other couch. Harry sees Louis glance quickly at Paul, who is staring very intently, yet not convincingly, at the iPad in his lap. “Harry wanted me to wax him. ‘S why we stayed here.”

“Wait,” Zayn pauses the game, only for long enough to stare at Harry and Louis with his eyebrows furrowed. When he turns back to the game, after Liam’s loud protest, he asks, “You waxed Harry’s bollocks?”

“I bet his hair was as long as his dick,” Niall leans away from Harry on instinct, even though Harry hadn’t even moved besides his eyes widening. “What with your stupid hair bet and all.”

Gemma finally looks up from her phone and it’s with a frown, and Harry can’t decide if the frown is because they’re talking about his dick or about how long his hair is. “Why does it matter?” she asks, quieter than the rest had been.

“I’m with her,” Paul speaks up. He’s used to the boys’ constant talk about dicks, though, so it’s no surprise that his attempt to sound annoyed fails miserably.

“Just saying,” Niall shrugs. Harry looks at Louis and rolls his eyes. Of course Louis is enjoying this, having to hold back his laughs that Harry can tell he so wants to let out. “It was a matter of time before Rapunzel here decided to finally cut her hair.”

Harry sucks in a sharp breath, not daring to even glance Gemma’s way. Louis finally busts up laughing, Niall and Zayn joining. Paul’s got a fond smile on his face while Liam is shaking his head, quietly chuckling, and scoring a goal against Zayn.

He whoops and hollers, punching the air in excitement because he’s just won the game. Louis pats him on the back, and Harry forces a smile when Liam’s eyes land on his, then leave quickly in order to look at Niall who’s trying to get his attention.

Niall whispers something and Liam’s eyes widen, then he’s laughing too, so hard he’s _slapping his knee_. Niall giggles, the cute fucker.

“What’s so funny?” Louis pries.

Harry finally looks at his sister, and she looks so furious he’s afraid she might explode. He tries offering her a smile to show that he doesn’t care, not anymore, which only makes her huff out a breath and cross her arms, eyes darker.

Niall starts explaining, which has the siblings turning to look at him. Harry is scared; he knows Niall is about to say something that will set Gemma off, and he has no way to stop it. “Just asked Liam how you were able to even find his dick in that mess.”

Louis snorts, but Liam says, “That’s not all you said,” poking Niall’s face. He looks at Louis and Harry braces himself. “He said you probably had to use his hair to climb up his leg.”

“What the fuck,” Zayn chuckles.

“He does make a proper Rapunzel, doesn’t he?” Louis tugs on some of Harry’s hair at the back of his neck, smiling with bright eyes. Yeah, that might’ve hurt a little, but Louis’ smile is so wonderful Harry feels his own lips quirking. “Lovely Rapunzel, but his hair around his dick actually doesn’t grow a lot. We barely have to trim it, and you guys know how much I hate body hair.”

Something in whatever Louis just said finally makes Gemma stand up. She’s glaring at Louis so hard Louis kind of shrinks, as does Harry. He gets up anyways, wincing in advance because he knows what’s coming.

He watches as she looks at all of them, save for Paul, who is staring at her just as scared like. He may be a grown man, but Gemma can be scariest even to the scariest of scary people out there, when she wants to be.

“None of you have any right to call him _Rapunzel_ ,” she spits. “Or _Princess_ , or any of those names you call him. So just shut up, play your stupid games, and _please_ excuse me and my brother.”

“Wait,” Paul suddenly stands, hesitating to put his hand on her shoulder before he decides against it. She looks at him, but in wait instead of anger. Good. Paul is nice, he’s good, and she clearly realizes this. “Do you want me to call for a car?”

“Please,” she answers simply.

“Alright,” he frowns, but not in disappointment. Harry can see that he feels sorry, for both her and Harry, and all the boys, and for himself that he’s had to witness this. “It’ll be the same we picked you up in.”

“Thank you,” she takes Harry’s hand and drags him to the door.

Clad in only sweats and one of Louis’ jumpers, Harry isn’t necessarily dressed to go outside, but he slips a random pair of socks on that are sitting by the door, ignoring the voice in his head saying they’ve already been worn and that’s gross. He slips his feet into Niall’s red Supras, grabbing his jacket and following Gemma out into the hall.

But not without a quick glance at everybody in the room, who are still staring with wide eyes.

-

In the elevator, Gemma is still visibly seething, so Harry wraps his arms around her in a hug. She buries her face against Harry’s chest, breathing deeply, and Harry is glad she’s calming down, now that they’re half way out of the building.

She’s quiet until they climb into the back of a plain black Cadillac, one that Harry is too busy to remember the specific name of. He does recognize the driver, Dylan, and smiles and waves weakly to him. “Any McDonalds in the city, but that’s furthest away from here possible, please,” Gemma states.

Harry makes sure she has her seatbelt on, and then his own, before he gives Dylan the go ahead. When they pull out of the Hotel’s drive, Harry pulls his sister to his side, hugging her and kissing her temple. It soothes her, he notices, since she lets out a long breath and sags even further against him.

“ ‘M sorry,” he whispers. She waves him off, and he’s forced into silence until Dylan pulls into the most empty and rundown McDonalds Harry has ever seen. Ever. “You’re qualified as a body guard too, right?” he asks.

Dylan pulls into an empty spot near the doors, and nods, looking at him through the rearview mirror. “That’s what I was hired on for, at first,” he’s quick to explain. “But then they needed a driver and I’ve got a clear record, so I kind of do both.”

“Good,” he smiles at the man, then nods his head towards the fattening restaurant they’re parked in front of. “Then you wouldn’t mind coming in with us, right? Everything’s on me.”

“You’re offering to buy me dinner? You don’t have to – ”

“Nonsense,” Harry cuts him off, waving his hand around. “I’ve already interrupted your evening. The least I can do is buy you dinner. Are you okay with McDonalds? We can go through the drive-through if you’d like something else…”

“This is fine,” Dylan chuckles, cheeks reddening. He’s probably just used to having to drive and guard the boys a lot, not getting bought dinner.

“Let’s go,” Gemma finally pipes up, climbing out of the car. Harry follows suit, making sure to pull the sweatpants up and pull the drawstring tight. Dylan is right behind them, locking the car with two loud beeps.

It makes Harry jump, and Gemma smiles her first real smile he’s seen since she left earlier with the boys to go shopping. He still hasn’t asked what she got. He’ll have to later.

The young lady behind the counter must recognize them, or at least Harry, because her eyes go wide. She stays professional, though, throughout the order, and just for how kind she is, Harry steals a pen and paper from Gemma’s purse, writing out a cute thank you message. “What’s your name, love?” he asks, even though he can see her name perfectly.

Her eyes go wide, and Gemma huffs out a laugh, going off the fill her cup up. Dylan follows her, but from the corner of Harry’s eyes, he can see the man keeping a careful eye on him and the rest of the people in here.

“Erika,” she squeaks, smiling so big when Harry hands it too her.

“I don’t want to get you in trouble, but do you have time for a picture too?” he asks. It’s usually the other way around, but sometimes Harry feels generous.

Her eyes widen comically, and Harry watches as she looks around quickly behind her. Her boss, Harry guesses from how the man is dressed in all black instead of the red McDonalds shirts, shrugs with a smile. “Nobody waiting behind you, go ahead.”

“Thanks Trevor,” she says. Harry smiles his best smile in the first picture, then surprises Erika with a quick peck to her forehead in the second.

“Don’t go posting those until we’ve left please,” he asks after standing straight again. “Don’t want to get swarmed.”

“Right, yeah. I won’t. Thank you.”

Harry shrugs it off, thanking her and her boss for the service, and then he goes to sit with his sister. Dylan is sitting three booths down, earphones in his ears even though he’s watching to make sure nobody will disturb them.

Harry is thankful he picked the most empty corner, what with only two other people here. He and Gemma can talk in private now, with the only company being their drinks, and then the food when Erika quietly drops it off. She smiles sweetly at Gemma, waving, and Harry bites back the smile pushing to his lips. He loves when fans will acknowledge his sister, along with his mum. But only when he’s around.

He hates when Gemma and Anne will get mobbed, but when it’s in situations like this, where it’s just the two of them and a couple of people will ask for autographs and whatnot, they are always nice to Gemma also.

Gemma takes a long sip of her lemonade – it’s the only thing she’s ever been able to drink from McDonalds – and sighs, finally look up at Harry. Harry braces himself for what she is about to say, and isn’t too surprised. “I’m sorry for blowing up, but only because it was in front of you. I’m not sorry for them.”

“I know,” Harry sighs. “Thank you, I guess. I mean. Thank you a lot for sticking up for me, obviously. You really are amazing. But…”

“But you still love them and care for them and you don’t like to see them upset or yelled at, and all that. I know,” she steals one of Harry’s apple slices, because Harry still gets kid meals, okay? The apples are healthy and he always buys a salad with it anyways.

“Right,” Harry agrees, stealing one of her French fries in return. A few other people walk in, but they’re an older couple who are holding hands. Harry smiles, because he loves seeing old couples hold hands. “Look,” he whispers.

Gemma follows his gaze and smiles too. “Makes me wanna see grandmum,” she says.

“Me too.”

“You need to tell them,” she blurts, her eyes wide and pleading.

Harry knows, he really does. And he will, but when he’s ready. He says all this out loud, which only has his sister frowning harder. “You’ve said that ever since the band was made,” she deadpans. “And it’s been four years and you haven’t. Are you ever going to be ready?”

“Yes, yes. I will. It just. It’s hard. Every time I think about it my mind drifts to how mad they’ll be because I haven’t told them yet, and then I think about how mad _Louis_ will be, with me and himself, and I just can’t... Not yet.” He adds, quieter.

“But think about it this way,” she urges, taking both of Harry’s hands in her own and squeezing. “Yeah, they’ll be mad at you and themselves. But you guys are stuck together, in the best way. You love each other to pieces, and not just you and Louis. You and the whole band. Yes, maybe you’ll be stuck in some mud for a while, but you’ll figure it out. You always do. In the end everything will be back to the way it was, minus the degrading names and jokes.”

She has a point. A very good one. Of course they’ll forgive him for not telling him sooner, of course they’ll al make it through in the end. They’re the boys, they’re all attached at the hips, some more than others, and Harry has always freaked out about this more than he probably should.

They’ll forgive and forget, and Harry won’t be teased and hurt anymore.

He really does need to tell them.

He doesn’t have a logical reason as to why he hasn’t yet, as to why he still kind of doesn’t want to.

Sighing, Harry stabs the last bite of his salad and chews furiously. He’s mad at himself, not Gemma, not the boys, only himself. Gemma pats his hand and finishes eating her own dinner.

They finish in silence. The car ride to wherever Gemma had told Dylan to go is silent. The walk into the twenty-four hour strip mall is silent. But they’re comfortable. Harry can have his arm draped over his sister’s shoulder and they can walk in silence, seeking a store that’s actually open this late that isn’t too sketchy or creepy.

A brightly colored salon catches Harry’s eye and he leads Gemma along to it. Her eyes light up and she smiles when they walk in. Two different woman are standing behind the counter, both looking to be in their late twenties, maybe early thirties, and neither seem to recognize them. If they do, they don’t acknowledge the fact that Harry is famous, and they’re both treated as if they were regular customers.

“Welcome,” the first lady says. Her hair is cut short, dark brown with red tips, and her smile is dazzling. The second lady smiles, and flips her blue hair as she’s looking back down to her magazine.

“Hello,” Gemma and Harry  greet in unison. Harry giggles and red-tipped lady smiles even wider.

“What can I help you with at ten in the late evening? Any perms, along with hair coloring, is half off today. Also, French manicures are half off, as well as any other nail polish besides crackle. I’m Zaya, by the way.”

“Hi, Zaya,” Gemma greets again. Harry’s eyes wander to the wall of polishes behind Zaya, lingering on the big blue section. He wonders if they have a color that matches Louis’ eyes. Gemma’s words bring him out of it, and he zones back in. “… just a small trim at the bottom, to get rid of any dead ends, and Harry here would like his nails painted.”

Harry almost blushes, except Zaya smiles and steps out of the way, gesturing her hand to the wall behind her. “Go ahead and pick a color out. Christi here will paint them when you’ve picked one… As for you…” she turns to Gemma and leads her to one of the chair near the other side, in front of the sinks.

It turns out there are so many blues that are very similar, but not one is the same as Louis’ eyes. Harry picks one that’s a little darker than Louis’, but that also has a weird grayish shine, like Louis’ does sometimes.

“That the one you want?” the girl named Christi asks, suddenly right next to Harry.

He jumps, but only a little, and holds it out to her with a nod. “Please.”

“You’re just a sweetie aren’t you,” she compliments, and Harry only blushes a little. He’s led to a set of chairs with a table in between. On the table is a box of tissues, some weird pen looking things, and a bendable lamp. After they settle into the chair, she takes one of his hands and starts talking. “So… Harry, right?”

Harry relaxes while she wipes his hands down with alcohol wipes, and nods. “Yeah. That’s my name.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be the same Harry all of my nieces are talking about, that’s in that super famous band, would you?” She uncaps a nail polish bottle that’s clear and gets to work.

Harry guesses it’s some sort of undercoat or something. It’s been so long since he’s done this.

“I just might be,” he teases. “Did they go to the concert yesterday? Or maybe the day before?”

“Nah. But they were super excited about it.”

“I could autograph something for you to give to them, if you’d like,” he offers.

“If you do that, this is all on the house,” she looks at him seriously, like she maybe thought he had been joking.

Smiling, Harry promises, “As soon as my nails are dry. I’m sure you have a magazine with us in it around here or something.”

“I have a printer in the back. I can print a picture off from there.”

“Deal.”

-

“You promise you’ll tell them?” Gemma asks in a quiet whisper, way later in the night. They’re cuddled on the couch, the only light coming from the moon through the patio doors.

“Yes,” he whispers back, kissing her forehead. “I promise I will tell them.”

“Soon?”

“Soon,” he agrees.

It’s a promise he absolutely has to keep, and one he wants to keep. He’ll tell them.

He will.

-

Harry waits until way after an hour of his sister falling asleep to carry her into the bedroom. Louis has stayed to his respective side and hasn’t stole all of the covers, thankfully, so Harry softly lays his sister on the bed and covers her up.

She only stirs a little, as does Louis, and Harry quietly tiptoes back into the living room after stealing Louis’ Spiderman blanket.

-

The smell of bacon brings Harry out of his sleep, and he shifts around so half of the couch cushion isn’t in his mouth. He can hear Liam’s and Niall’s voices drifting through. He’s honestly surprised Liam is okay with Niall making bacon for breakfast. It’s a rare thing.

Egg and cinnamon scent fills Harry’s nostrils too. He stretches, ignoring the small crick in his back from sleeping on a couch, and lifts up onto his elbows. A pillow had been put under his head, and from the smell of it, he guesses it’s one of Zayn’s.

Liam’s and Niall’s heads are visible, just over the top of the couch, and Harry rolls his eyes when he sees how close they are.

His bedroom door is open, as well as Zayn’s, and he thinks he might here the faint sound of Louis rustling around in the bathroom, going through his morning routine.

They leave today on the bus, headed for Atlanta for the show they have tomorrow, and Harry is excited.

He sneaks off to the bedroom, careful to not alert the two in the kitchen. Gemma is still buried in the covers, while Louis’ soft humming drifts through the half open bathroom door.

He’s running a brush through his hair, a small blue one he stole from Charlotte, and Harry bites his lip to hold back his smirk. How he manages to not throw himself at Louis and kiss him senseless, Harry doesn’t know.

But he does know that the moment his and Louis’ eyes meet in the mirror, his heart swells too big for his chest. “Harry!” Louis whispers, turning and crashing into Harry so hard he almost loses balance.

Harry hugs back, taking in the warm scent of Louis’ hair. “I missed not sleeping next to you,” Harry says.

“I woke up with Gemma’s face in my armpit. She’s lucky I don’t sweat when I sleep,” Harry feels Louis’ smile against his bare chest, and he smiles too, scratching lightly over Louis’ shoulder blades. “She’s almost as good a cuddler as you.”

“Not possible. You love my cuddling the most and you know it,” Harry sways them back and forth, and he really wishes he had a shirt on. It’s chillier in the bathroom, oddly enough.

“I said almost,” Louis says. He lifts his head away from Harry’s chest and Harry smiles, catching Louis in a quick, but very soft and sweet kiss. No tongue, though, because Harry hasn’t brushed his teeth this morning yet. “You alright?”

Harry’s smile fades, but he clutches Louis closer and nods. It’s the truth when he says, “More than… Gemma was just a bit upset about some stuff is all.” To lighten the mood, Harry pulls his arms away and thrusts his hands in Louis’ face. “Look. They’re the closest I could find to your eyes.”

“God, you are such a sap,” Louis chuckles, though he takes a hold of Harry’s hands and examines his nails closely.

“A close rival,” he adds. “But not as pretty.”

“Again, such a sap. They are very close, though. And very pretty,” Louis compliments Harry, and Harry bites his lip. “I like them. Did Gemma get her hair cut? It seemed a bit different, smelled a lot like salon products.”

“Just a small trim,” Harry answers. “We also went to McDonalds with Dylan.”

“Sounds like you had fun. Maybe take me with you next time?”

“Of course,” Harry and Louis look up and Gemma is standing in the doorway, hair mussed. Harry reaches out and fixes it a little, smiling. “We can get your nails painted too,” she says to Louis. “Now please get out so I can take a shower and have time to eat breakfast before we have to leave.”

Louis kisses her on the cheek on the way out, as does Harry, and Harry lets Louis pick out his clothes.

Later, while he, Louis, and Niall are all standing in the kitchen, Liam and Zayn out on the couch, Niall teases him about his nails a little. He just says they’re super pretty and that Harry is so girly.

He’s glad Gemma is still in the shower, and doesn’t plan on telling her about it. He doesn’t want her upset anymore than she already is.

-

They’ve got quite a bit of time on the bus. Liam uses the time to work out and to try to get Niall to with him, who only insists that he’s there to watch, not participate; Zayn requests the bunks area to himself so he can Skype Perrie; and Louis, Harry, and Gemma steal the tiny couch so they can watch Wreck-It Ralph – per Gemma’s request.

Gemma’s been playing with Harry’s hair while Louis’ hands massage his feet, and he couldn’t be happier.

Okay, maybe if his mum were here, he’d be happier. But he’ll get to see her in just a few days time so.

Harry must have seen this movie over a hundred times but he always tear up when Ralph destroys Vanellope’s racecar. Louis tugs his big toe when he does, and he kicks back. Gemma soothes her fingers over his scalp so it’s okay.

By the time the movie plus an episode of The Simpsons is over, they’re in Atlanta and Paul is rushing them through the crowd into the hotel. Who knows how the fans found out where they’re at, but it happens more times than not so they’re all used to it.

Harry keeps himself wrapped around Gemma to protect her. He may need her for emotional support, protection, but when it comes to things like big mobs of fans, he will always do his best to make sure she’s safe.

-

The hotel doesn’t have full suits like the last, so they’ve rented out a whole floor like they usually do whenever it’s like this. It means everybody is allowed to have their own room, and even though Harry and Louis always stay together, along with the other boys occasionally, they always spend at least an hour in their own rooms.

It’s a rule Paul put in place a long time ago so it would at least look like they all have their own rooms.

Maybe it isn’t one of the nicest hotels they’ve been too, but the beds are comfortable and the walls are sound proof so Harry and Gemma are able to blare their music as loud as they want.

They go to bed at a decent time. Mostly.

-

Not to Harry’s surprise, Gemma caves in about two seconds after Louis pulls out his sad face. “Fine,” she exclaims, through her face is full of fond. Harry rolls his eyes and sits back on the couch, feet resting in Niall’s lap, trying to get comfortable.

He’s trying to ignore the fact that his boyfriend just talked his sister into switching out all of Liam’s hair gel for lube, along with the fact that it will most likely be from their big bottle of passion fruit scented lube that Harry insisted they bring at the beginning of the tour.

They haven’t used much of it, since Louis also packed plenty of small bottles that they’ve been taking advantage of. They’ve used it once, and that was because it was the closest they could find and they were in a hurry.

Despite the fact that they’ve used it once, it’s nearly half gone already. Harry tries not to think too much about it, but the few times Louis has used it to prank people, or as a sort of lotion to make himself smell like it, runs through his mind.

Lou had kicked Louis’ arse after she put her favorite heels on and found out Louis had filled them with lube.

The time Louis used it for lotion, Harry had been painfully hard the whole concert and Louis had been so proud, so happy, that Harry held him down and fucked him so good Louis had still been so incoherent the next morning. The boys teased Louis the whole day about until Louis lashed out at them, throwing his cup of warm orange juice that had miraculously landed in all three of their hair.

By the time Gemma and Louis run back in, giggling their heads off, Liam has managed to drag Niall off – Harry can’t blame Niall, though, since Liam had been shirtless, sweaty, and obviously hard – and Zayn is in his place.

Harry waits in silence, waiting to see the reactions Louis and Gemma will have when they see Zayn is in here, staring at them with his eyebrows raised.

The moment comes not a second later, Zayn asking, “What’d you get up to this time?”

Louis and Gemma both freeze up, sending Harry into his own round of giggles. Louis glares at him, but Harry mimes zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the zipper. Gemma snorts and starts laughing again, in a way only Harry can really appreciate, and she points at Zayn. “You!” she cries.

It takes all of two second for Zayn’s eyes to go wide, then he’s throwing Harry’s feet off and jumping up in front of the two. “What did you do?!” he roars.

“I may have tied all the lace of your shoes together,” Louis says. It had taken them quite a while, though, so Harry has a vague suspicion that Louis’ remark might be true.

Zayn looks pissed for all of two seconds before he rolls his eyes, plopping back down. “I’ve got my boots, and I can just steal some of your VANS or Harry’s neons,” he says, and Harry places his feet back on Zayn’s lap.

“Right, of course, except for the fact that I hid all of your non-laced shoes and Louis’ too,” Gemma finally speaks up, looking smug. Harry locks eyes with her and knows, he _knows_ , that they still went through with Liam’s hair gel.

“That’s alright,” Harry quips, poking Zayn’s stomach with his toe. Zayn’s furious eyes calm, and Harry adds, “I’ve hidden my neon tennis shoes somewhere where nobody would think too look.”

Zayn smiles, leans towards Harry and whispers, “They forgot about my boots by the door.”

“I heard that,” Louis cries, lunging for the shoes and running off with them. Gemma follows, and Harry rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe she’s actually encouraging him to do this.”

“Even after he switched all of Niall’s boxers with her underwear,” Zayn adds. “Where’ve you got your shoes hidden?”

Harry doesn’t want to think about what had happened last tour. About Gemma’s furious eyes when she stomped up to him and threw Niall’s boxers in his face. At least they had been clean. Not two minutes later, Niall had slowly creeped out of his room, red faced and stammering that Gemma might want to get her unders.

It had been pretty funny how mad she had been. Enough to not talk to Louis for four days straight, with Louis bribing her with delicious food and expensive clothes.

“Niall’s blue backpack,” answers Harry as he steals one of Zayn’s chips.

Zayn makes a disgusted face. “I refuse to wear them then. I’ll just go barefoot or something.”

“They’re in a big zip lock baggie. None of Niall’s boxers are touching them. I don’t see what the big deal is anyways. That’s the one he keeps the clean ones in.” Harry really doesn’t understand why, but everybody who isn’t Harry, Louis, Niall, and Liam is grossed out by the thought of Niall’s underwear. Louis’ too, but only because Paul had found a pair of his… dirty briefs shoved under the couch on the bus.

“Maybe because I’m straight and anything that touches another man’s dick doesn’t excite me,” Zayn tries to explain, but Harry still doesn’t understand.

What he does understand is the text he gets from Louis saying _hurry up liam &niall just got back from the buus nd i think liams goin for his gel!_

“Zayn,” Harry tugs on his arm, jumping up in excitement. “Come on, Z. We have to go watch. _Come on_!”

“What?” Zayn follows anyways, leaving his chips on the couch. Harry’s glad it didn’t spill, but he can’t care too much. “What’re we doing?”

“Shh,” Harry shushes him, pulling the door open of the dressing room and pulling Zayn to peek out with him. “Just watch.”

Zayn, thankfully, stays quiet, hooking his chin over Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s eyes land on Louis and Gemma who are pretending to watch something on Louis’ phone, while Niall is sitting with Lou messing with his hair. Liam is standing next to them, finishing washing his face off. They both look red and have swollen lips, and it’s so fucking obvious.

If Harry weren’t waiting for a prank to unfold, he’d tease them.

As it is, he can hear Lou quietly scolding them for whatever activities they’d been up too while trying to fix Niall’s hair, and Liam is brushing his own hair out of his face. Harry is honestly surprised Liam hasn’t noticed everybody staring at him through the mirror. Even Niall notices, and he furrows his eyebrows, turning to watch Liam in fear.

It seems like everything goes in slow motion, from when Liam finally picks up his hair gel bottle, to him spilling some out in his palm, rubbing his hands together, then running his fingers through his hair. It takes a couple of seconds and a few strokes, everything dead silent except for the sound of their crew working onstage, and then Liam’s nose turns up, face scrunching.

His head tips back, he sniffs at the air, then he turns to look at Louis who is trying so hard to not laugh he’s almost read. “Did you put lube in Lou’s shoes again?” he asks.

“No,” Lou answers for everybody.

Five seconds later, Liam’s eyes go wide as he brings his hands to his nose, and he sniffs. Then his eyes go even wider, turn furious, and Louis is running past the furthest corner before Liam even starts chasing him. “I’m going to fucking kill you, Tommo!”

-

The concert goes spectacularly, in Harry’s opinion. Despite the fact that he had to practically pry Liam off of Louis and ended up popping a boner – because separating two very sexy, sweaty, covered-in-his-favorite-scented-lube men, well, anybody would be helpless in a situation – of which he had walked out on stage with hoping nobody would notice. Otherwise, the whole evening goes wonderfully. There aren’t any ‘cut your hair’ signs, and nobody seems to notice right away about his nails.

Although he’s sure Twitter and Tumblr will be blowing up later once pictures get out. He can’t bring himself to care because he likes his nails, likes that they rival Louis’ eyes, and he likes that he has a Tumblr so he can go see what people will be saying about it later on tonight.

He’s not too worried about it. Over the past year or so, he’s come to find out that the fans love and support any and all decisions that the boys make, which is why he’s been coming more and more out of his shell lately.

Harry’s incorporated more patterns and colors into his wardrobe; he has started wearing more and more scarves, albeit not the way he’d prefer to wear them, though they are very useful for his hair;  and the hair bet hadn’t been planned, but it had and still has played nicely into the whole ordeal.

And if the boys tease him more and more, well. That’s just something he’s had to endure.

About a month ago, Harry had been scrolling through his Tumblr feed and came across a fanfic. They don’t show up often and when they do, he doesn’t read them. Once and he was done. But this one had said something about him being genderfluid and it had been Larry Stylinson, so of course he had read it.

After that amazing story that had made Harry feel more confident in himself, Harry had been so happy for the longest time. He still is, whenever he thinks about it.

Back to the point. The concert has left Harry energized and pumped and it sucks that they have a night on the bus, tonight. Mostly, because he won’t be able to wind down the way he usually does since any and all types of “bum stuff”, as Niall has always put it, is off limits while on the bus. For both Louis and Harry, and Liam and Niall. They all say Harry and Louis both are too loud when they do “bum stuff”, and fucking Louis is how he can properly sleep after such an amazing concert like that.

With Gemma on the bus, he probably won’t even get a messy handjob in the bathroom.

Plus his back will hurt like a bitch in the morning since he’s sleeping on the couch, where he’s currently spread across. He always insists that Gemma gets his bunk whenever she comes along and he refuses to let Louis sleep anywhere besides his bunk. He has a special mattress specifically for his back.

The bus is almost quiet and dark as they travel along the highway, but Harry can’t fall asleep. Some of Liam’s relaxation music can just barely be heard from the bunks area, but not even that is helping Harry fall asleep.

He’s quite frustrated, already having made and drank tea with warm milk, having listened to his absolute favorite recording of Louis singing that had originally been meant for his sisters, but. Oh well. Even after he had played almost an hour of Candy Crush, Harry is still lying wide awake, staring out of the large window right above the couch.

The moon is out and bright, but Harry can’t see any stars. Maybe because the moon is too bright? That’s probably it.

Harry really is tired, exhausted as fuck, but he can’t fall asleep and he doesn’t know why.

Just as he’s about to get his iPod out and find his favorite recording of Louis… not singing, _particularly_ , Zayn pushes through the divider and falls down right on top of Harry. Harry gets his break knocked out of him, but he wraps his arms around Zayn anyways. It’s rare that Zayn will initiate a cuddle, so when he does, Harry takes advantage of it.

“ ‘S too fucking hot for this, but,” Zayn whispers, moving around to get more comfortable. This way, he’s squished between Zayn and the couch, but Zayn kicks the blanket off and tangles his fingers in Harry’s hair so he’s content.

“Y’alright?” Harry mumbles, letting his fingers scratch lightly over Zayn’s hipbone. He’s a bit worried, but at least he’s not alone anymore. He won’t have to wait out this ‘no falling asleep’ thing by himself.

Humming, Zayn hooks his ankle over Harry’s and Harry inhales. Zayn always smells wonderful, especially with his face in his shoulder like this. “Just wanted a bit of a cuddle.”

Harry understands. He’s already feeling droopy, like if he closes his eyes for longer than five seconds he’ll pass out. Maybe this is what’s been keeping him up, not having human contact for such a long time. It makes sense, since he normally always has Louis wrapped around him like a koala or Niall following him like a lost puppy whenever Harry has decent food.

This is nice, having someone to cuddle with, even though he’ll probably doze off in two minutes and Zayn will go back to his bunk.

Harry pushes through it, though, for Zayn’s sake. He wants to stay awake – _has_ to, until Zayn decides he’s alright enough to go sleep on his own. They all have moments like these, where being alone for so long gets almost unbearable and they need company, or even a cuddle.

It seems like Harry is always the one who everybody goes to, and he loves that. Loves that everybody can count on him for anything they need.

From the compliments he’s gotten, and not just from Louis, Harry can say he’s a pretty comfy person to cuddle with.

“Gonna sleep here then?” he asks, thinking he might as well know, so he can see if falling asleep is an option in the next few minutes.

“Don’t wanna get back up,” Zayn sounds half asleep now, voice quiet and raspy.

Harry is too tired to try and think, especially hard enough as to why Zayn has suddenly wanted a sleep partner, so he puts it off. He can do it in the morning, after Liam’s required work out.

-

When the warm chest his head is pillowed on moves in quick movements, Harry groans and digs his palm into Zayn’s stomach. Come to find out, after a minute of lazy wrestling that ends with Harry pressed back against the couch instead of half sprawled over Zayn, that he had only been laughing at whatever Louis had said.

“Jesus, Haz,” Louis chuckles, his warm fingers coming to wrap around one of his ankles.

“Remind me to never wake you from your beauty sleep,” teases Zayn, and Harry is too tired to care about the minor joke. Why should he care? Men have beauty sleep too, not just women and men who sometimes want to feel pretty like women.

“Speaking of which,” Louis lifts the blanket that had magically returned back on top of Harry and Zayn during the night, sliding down so his legs are squished between Harry’s and Zayn’s legs. Zayn grumbles about being pushed half off the couch. Harry just feels warmer where Louis’ skin is touching his. “You have your own girlfriend who, mind you, has called four times since last night, so can I please have my own back?”

“Yeah,” Zayn hurries to get up, stretching and no bothering to hide the tent in his flannels. Harry had felt it against his hip, but it hadn’t bothered him.

Louis takes Zayn’s spot almost right away, moving in close to fit his own hips against Harry’s. “You know, if I didn’t miss you so much I would’ve given Zayn so much shit for waking up next to my boyfriend with a boner.”

Ah, so he had noticed. Harry snorts, then sighs at the way Louis’ bare chest feels against his own. He can never get enough of touching Louis, especially when he’s all soft and sleep rumpled, like now. “You can later,” he suggests. A yawn rips through him and Louis pokes his chest.

“I hate when you get all cute and we’re on the bus like this,” he mumbles. The next second, Harry feels Louis’ face in his neck, warm breath and soft lips leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake, and he almost shoves Louis off the couch.

“Stop,” he says, not bothering to hide his own semi.

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m not working out with Liam with a boner and you can’t fix it out here,” Harry very pointedly says. He pokes Louis’ tummy and that’s the end of that because Louis breaks and starts giggling, tickling Harry back.

It’s an all out war then, both falling on the ground, laughing loud and making a lot of noise, so much that Niall comes walking in still in his pajamas. “If you get any louder Liam will wake up faster,” he whispers, harsh but only because it’s morning. Niall can only be rude when it’s morning or when he’s not gotten his food on time. Or both. But then he’s the rudest of all rude and so that never happens.

Finally, Louis’ stops digging his fingers into Harry’s sides and he can breathe again. He silently thanks Niall, hastily trying to wipe away the tears Louis had tickled out of him before anybody sees.

“Was Zayn in his bunk?” Harry asks suddenly, not even realizing he had cut Louis off. Louis sits there with his mouth hung open, glaring at Harry with a certain glint in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Niall answers before Louis can speak, getting cut off again.

Harry pecks him on the cheek, then jumps up and makes his way towards the bunks. He knows Louis hates being cut off, especially multiple times in a row. Niall’s looking at him like he’s high or something. Harry pats him on the shoulder and continues on, staying as quiet as he can while he slips into the still dark and quiet room.

The curtain to Zayn’s bunk is drawn half way, and when Harry looks through, Zayn is facing away, phone lighting up his bunk. Harry almost coos after seeing that Zayn is scrolling through the pictures of Perrie on his phone, and almost laughs at how much Zayn startles when Harry climbs in behind him.

“ ‘S just me,” Harry whispers, thankful that his semi is gone as he fits himself to be the big spoon. “Just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

Zayn sighs, chest expanding enough to make Harry giggle. Zayn laughs right back, quiet enough, and they both settling into a silence that stretches until the sounds of Liam getting out of his bunk fill the room.

He brings his hands up to card through Zayn’s longer hair. “Yeah, I am,” Zayn whispers eventually, locking his phone and stuffing it under his pillow. Harry holds tighter; he knows when one of the boys will need comforting, and he knows just how to give it. “Was just a bit lonely.”

“And you’re not now?” Harry asks to make sure.

“It’s been too long since I’ve seen her.” Harry’s mind goes to the blond haired, very lovely woman that he is glad to call his friend. He misses her too.

“You’ll get to see her the day after tomorrow.”

Zayn sighs, shifts around so he’s flat on his back, shoulder pressed to the wall so Harry won’t fall out. Harry’s grateful, as he reaches an arm over Zayn’s chest and presses his face to his warm shoulder.

“I know. It’s till been a while, though. ‘S why I needed a cuddle.”

“Glad I could help,” Harry smiles, kisses Zayn’s shoulder. “You’d better get more than enough when she shows up on the fourth ‘cause I’m stealing her before the last show. She promised to braid my hair.”

Poking Harry’s chest, Zayn huff out a laugh, saying, “Will do… Can you believe it’s already over?”

No, Harry can’t. He loves touring and meeting fans and singing on stage, but at the same time he is kind of glad it’s almost over. He’ll get to go home and sleep in, have as much – very loud, thank you – sex with Louis where ever and when ever in their house without any complaints, wear his favorite knickers and be able to walk around with _just_ those on without being laughed at. Ogled at, yes, but Louis won’t laugh at him because he’s wearing the lace he’s missed for so long.

It’s hard to think that there are only two more shows and then they’re all headed back home to London, to their hometowns for a little bit to visit their families.

“No,” he answers. Liam’s loud booming voice makes him jump, and when both he and Zayn realize Liam had been yelling at Louis, yet again, for what had happened yesterday before the show, they both chuckle. “I can’t, but I’m excited to go home.”

“Same. Now, I love you and all, but it’s hot as fuck and I really have to piss so.”

Harry smiles, rolling backwards and luckily landing on his feet. He reaches back into the bunk and pats Zayn’s stomach, then turns around and peeks into his own bunk.

Gemma is still asleep, clad in a  sleep mask, ear plugs, and a sheep nightgown, the whole thing. It makes him smile as he pulls the curtain back into place and ventures back into the bright room, where Louis and Liam are wrestling while Niall is sitting off to the side, watching with a bag of chips like it’s the best movie ever.

Harry rolls his eyes as he sits and watches with Niall.

-

He spends the day locked up in Gemma’s hotel room with her, eating a whole pint of ice-cream while watching the Lord of The Rings trilogy.

It’s mostly non-productive, except for when his sister forces him, between The Two Towers and The Return of the King, to explain fully what his views on the whole ‘genderfluid’ thing is, especially with himself. It takes a whole two hours for him to sort everything out, into how he feels about what he wears, how he acts, and how he’s treated.

By the end, she’s made him promise to tell the boys everything, as soon as possibly possible right after the tour is over. And not just any promise, but a sibling’s promise. It’s a thing they started when they were very little, and neither has ever broken a sibling’s promise ever.

They eat dinner with the others in Niall’s room, and all Harry can think about is how he’s going to try and explain everything to the boys. Of course they’ll have questions, of course they’ll interrupt, but he’ll just have to power through it.

He knows Louis knows something is up, from the way he keeps looking at Harry with his what’s-going-on look, but Harry always shrugs it off and snuggles further into Louis’ side.

So yeah. Somewhat productive.

Harry calls it a win.

-

The fans had seemed extra loud at the show in Tampa, but it was nothing Harry can’t handle. He, along with all four of the other boys, have specialized sound-cancelling earphones, so they are still mostly able to hear when they get back to the hotel, where they are all stuffed into one large bed.

Gemma hadn’t been feeling too well, probably something she ate, so she had stayed behind at the hotel. When Harry had gotten back, Gemma had been asleep in her hotel room, so Harry’d made his way over to his and Louis’ to find all the boys already taking up their bed.

Now he’s sprawled across Louis’ and Niall’s lap, while Niall is pressed to Liam’s side, and Zayn has his head on Harry’s stomach, legs curled up against his body.

The American TV show True Blood is showing on the TV. Personally, Harry thinks it’s a bit tacky, but he’s always found vampire movies and shows dumb. The exception being his secret obsession with the Twilight movies because both Edward and Jacob shirtless has always been and will always be something Harry cannot get over.

Just like how every time he sees Louis shirtless he nearly has a heart attack. He’s quick to recover, though. Obviously.

True Blood had been Niall’s idea, since the only other options were Dirty Jobs and Glee, and while Louis had groaned at the mention of Glee, his hand in Harry’s hair had tightened.

Harry knows what it had meant; he and Louis both have a secret obsession with Glee, and only do they watch it when there won’t be another human soul around for _at least_ more than three days.

The show is a bit cheesy. And though they have amazing remakes of amazing songs, as well as very amazing actors who all of the boys have met and are friends with, Harry and Louis both know that if Liam were to find out he would give them shit for it forever. Especially Harry.

Harry had smiled and is still smiling, sort of, because of being reminded of that.

With Louis’ hand still in his hair, Harry silently sighs and presses his cheek harder against Louis’ soft, bare thigh. Of course he had been the only one with only briefs and one of Harry’s jumpers on. Even Harry is still wearing pants, sweats and a t-shirt to be exact.

He is okay with this, though, because Louis still smells like his body wash from earlier in the day, as well as the faint hint of _Louis_ that always overwhelms Harry whenever his face is this close to Louis’ dick and bum.

If the others weren’t in here, he’d already have Louis half way there with just his mouth, but as it is, that’s not an option right now. He’ll have to sneak Louis off in the morning before they leave, or something.

Liam’s wonderful fingers are massaging Harry’s ankles and he already feels like falling asleep.

He keeps awake as soon as Zayn shifts up and closer so that Harry is forced to wrap an arm around his stomach, spooning him. Louis’ fingertips leave Harry’s scalp for a second and he watches as they tangle in Zayn’s hair, before returning.

One of Liam’s hands leave his ankle and he has a vague feeling it’s now on Zayn’s.

The sound on the TV is turned down just enough by Niall since he has the remote, like almost always, and Zayn sighs. “I know I get to see her tomorrow, but I just miss her so much,” he whispers, face tucked against Harry’s bicep.

“Aw, babe,” Louis coos, his hand once again leaving Harry’s hair and finding semi-permanence in Zayn’s.

Niall asks, quieter than Harry thinks he’s ever heard, “It’s not been _that_ long, has it?”

“Five months,” answers Zayn. Harry holds him closer, kissing the top of his head. “So, yeah. It has. It’s especially harder this time since you’ve all had your own partners with you the whole tour.”

They all know Zayn isn’t deliberately trying to make them feel bad because he would never do that unless he’s teasing. Now’s not a teasing time and they feel really bad, all seeming to move closer.

“By this time tomorrow you’ll have her in your arms,” Harry whispers even though everybody can hear him.

Nodding, Zayn stretches and he sounds closer to sleep now. “Thanks guys,” he whispers. “Now someone else bring up something important, too.” That’s Zayn, Harry thinks, always only needing the smallest amount of comforting to be alright again, and then quickly changing the topic to someone else’s problems or whatever, so he can give advice and say something deep and amazing.

That’s how it’s always been.

Harry is glad he knows these things, about how each of the boys act, talk, the way they do things specifically. Like how Niall rarely cries, but when he does, he’s a sobbing mess and it takes all of them dog-piling him into a big, warm cuddle to calm him down. Or how Liam works out to alleviate stress and how he thinks it’ll do the same for the boys. And especially how Louis always turns into the biggest shit whenever he’s stressed or super homes-sick, and that only Harry is able to get to him.

“Well…” Liam trails off, and Harry can tell he’s blushing through his voice. He doesn’t need to see Liam’s face, even though he wouldn’t be able to in the dark room. Harry flexes his ankle, urging Liam to continue, and he does. “… I have some personal things to ask Louis, and normally I know none of you would care, but it’s something that I don’t think Zayn would be comfortable sitting through.”

“Oh my god,” Niall groans, sounding a bit embarrassed, and Harry and Louis both laugh.

Zayn smirks, but his elbow digs back into Harry’s rubs and Harry stops laughing so he isn’t jostling Zayn so much.

“Tomorrow on the bus then,” Louis says, humor still seeping out of his voice.

“You can have the bunks to yourself,” Zayn mumbles.

“And,” Harry adds. “I’ll make sure everybody else stays out. _Especially_ Gemma.” They all chuckle.

Harry can’t even imagine half of what Liam and Louis will be discussing tomorrow, let alone what his sister’s reaction would be if she were to walk in on their conversation.

He mentally cringes.

It’s quiet, then, for a few long minutes. Niall still hasn’t turned the volume back up, and Harry has a big feeling Niall is wanting to say something too. He lifts his free arm and reaches behind himself, pinching Niall’s thigh but not hard.

The Irish man takes a bit longer, and they all stay quiet. That is, until Niall finally asks his question, effectively making Harry tense up and mentally freak out a little. “What was up with Gemma? Few nights ago…” he adds, like Harry didn’t already know what he was talking about.

It’s only for a split second, but Louis obviously notices his reaction as Harry can _feel_ him frowning from down here, fingers pressed tight to Harry’s neck.

He knows he doesn’t have to answer, because these are the boys and they will never make him do anything he doesn’t want to. But at the same time, these are _The Boys_ , and Harry has always hated keeping things from them.

“Um…” Harry tries thinking of something quickly, something that will sound somewhat believable. He’s brushed any questions like this one off so far, but he can’t anymore.

“Right. So… Gemma doesn’t…” Louis’ fingers scratch lightly, comfortingly, at the top of his neck, under the thick curls there. It’s nice, wonderful, in fact, and Harry calms by a fraction. When he finally gets the courage to say it, he takes a deep breath and rushes it out. “She doesn’t really like the pet names.”

“Wh – ” Liam cuts himself off. Harry can hear the gears turning in his head.

Harry knows he should be proud of himself right now, because even though this is just the tip of the iceberg, _it’s still the tip of the iceberg_ , and it’s a start. A very great start.

But they have a whole day off tomorrow, of which they will get plenty of rest because their last show is the day after tomorrow, and he doesn’t want to keep them up for any longer than he has to.

Plus, he had promised Gemma he would do it after the tour is over, so he’ll wait until he ventures further into the iceberg that might kill him. _And_ , there’s no point in telling them all now anyways. They’ll just get pissed off that he didn’t tell them sooner and tomorrow will be terrible, as will the show.

So, no. Not tonight.

Zayn hums while Niall’s hand squeezes Harry’s hip. “We’re sorry,” he says.

“No, it’s. Really, it’s alright. Just – ”

Louis hums, urging him along with a few quick taps to his pulse point. It feels wonderful, to have Louis’ warm fingers pressing to his neck, calming.

“She’s not, like. She doesn’t not like… how do I say this?” Liam says mostly to himself. “Well, we know she’s okay with you being gay, but she’s not upset with the idea that we just think you’re a little more girly than what we’re used to, right?”

Harry had never thought about that before. It’s quite similar, almost right on point. But it’s the fact that they make fun of Harry for being more girly than they are used to, that upsets her. Harry, of course, doesn’t say this out loud. Instead, “No, she’s not upset that you guys think I’m a girl, she’s just upset about the name calling and the teasing. Plus, I think she was already upset about something that night, but she never told me any more, so.” Harry shrugs.

“We don’t think you’re a girl,” Louis says quietly, frown obvious in his voice.

Harry doesn’t reply, but that’s covered up with Zayn saying something. He only had a second to answer anyways, so what would’ve been the point?

“We can stop,” the man in Harry’s arms offers, the sweetie he is. “At least, while she’s around that is.”

It’s not… what Harry had been hoping for, per say, but it’s a start and it’ll have to do.

Especially now that Liam thinks that’s the best idea too. “Yeah. We’re sorry if we ever really upset her.”

 _What about me?!_ a voice in the back of Harry’s mind shouts, and Harry wants to shout right back at that voice to go fuck itself. This isn’t about him right now, and that voice needs to go away. It’s the conceded little thing that comes out sometimes that Harry always pushes down. He hates when everything is made about him in serious situations like this, especially ones that might not turn out so well.

No. Harry refuses to say that, to say me or I or anything along those lines. He isn’t conceded, isn’t full of himself, and he hates putting himself first.

“She’s alright now,” Harry answers eventually, happy that his voice shows no signs of distress. “Thank you, though.”

-

When Harry finally sees Perrie, her hair is the usual blond but with orange highlights underneath, and she looks lovely. Zayn looks so much happier too, eyes bright and mostly trained on his fiancé. She had arrived the day before, but they only saw her for a brief second before Zayn had stolen her for the rest of the time, until now.

They’re at the venue in Miami, and all the boys, plus Perrie and Gemma, are too excited for anything right now. After they all make proper greetings, Louis and Niall run off to do whatever they do, while Liam insists on finding an empty room somewhere to work out, and Zayn follows Lou, after a long hug from Perrie, so she can play with his hair for a while.

Meanwhile, Harry follows the girls back out to the bus and they take up camp in the main room, Harry sat on the floor across from Gemma, Perrie behind him on the couch. She’s got her fingers tangling with Harry’s hair, and Harry can’t wait to see what she finally decides to do with it.

“Zayn’s hair is getting so long but he refuses to let me do anything to it around other people,” she voices at one point.

Harry says, “That’s why you’ve got me,” and Gemma smiles so big. He smiles too, knowing.

“Yes, love. You’re hair is absolutely amazing,” Perrie gushes. “How do you feel about make up? I know you’re okay with nail polish.” She giggles.

“I do his make up as often as I can,” Gemma fills in for him, polish brush in hand as she touches up the chipped parts of his fingernails.

Perrie nearly dies, Harry swears, from how excited she gets. “Oh my god, you have to let me and the girls give you a makeover. I love hair, obviously. Jesy loves doing nails, Leigh-Anne is a sucker for makeup, and Jade has always wanted to dress her brother up but he never lets her.”

“I can’t wait,” Harry says, because he literally can’t. It’s one thing to have just his sister dressing him up when he was thirteen, but it’s another to have four of his best friends make him over while he’s twenty and has the money to get the right fitting clothes.

Gemma’s smiling and she’s so beautiful, looks so happy right now. “And of course you’ll be there too,” he pokes her calf with his toe.

She rolls her eyes with a slight blush, and Perrie insists for Harry. “Yes, of course. You can help with anything. Maybe you can judge when we’re done, give us a score, you know.”

“And the prize for whoever’s part that is the best is a car,” Gemma teases.

Perrie doesn’t seem to realize she’s teasing, though, since she gasps and stops what she’s doing. “No,” she says, unbelieving.

“Sure,” Gemma shrugs, and Harry rolls his eyes. “Harry’s got a whole collection of whatever novelty mini-car brand they have here in the States – ”

“Hot Wheels,” he interrupts.

“Whatever. Anyways.”

“Nobody is touching those. I’ve got them hidden with my neons.” Harry giggles to himself, knowing they don’t get what he’s referencing. Well, Zayn’s not here, so.

“You’re so weird,” Perrie says, fond traced through her voice.

Harry smiles. Yeah, he’s a little weird, and he knows this. Embraces it, even. Why not?

-

“You’re hair is lovely, babe,” Louis traces his fingers over each groove of the braids in Harry’s hair and Harry smiles wide, leaning into the touch. Louis is so wonderful, and they’re alone in the bus so Harry can’t help it when he leans in a little further than planned and slots his lips right with Louis’.

Louis makes a garbled sound and kisses right back, one hand staying at the back of Harry’s head, the other coming to Harry’s hip. Harry lets Louis drag him and turn him, lets himself be pressed against the wall next to their bunks.

“Gonna have all that for the show too?” Louis detaches his lips for only the two seconds it takes to ask. Nodding, Harry opens his mouth, his tongue venturing out. Louis indulges in the kiss, taking over with a soft grunt and licking into Harry’s mouth softly.

He knows he should feel embarrassed about feeling his cock perking up already, especially when they only have half an hour before Lou will want to do Louis’ hair and all that. But he doesn’t. Instead, Harry hitches his hips forward and gasps because Louis is definitely showing interest too. Oh thank the stars above, Harry lets out a low whoosh of breath.

Louis’ hand travels down from Harry’s hip, stopping to hover right above Harry’s half hard cock and zipper through his jeans. “Just like this?” he whispers, and Harry nods, pushing his hips forward to collide with Louis’ palm.

With that, Louis makes quick work to unzip Harry’s skinny jeans and push them, as well as Harry’s briefs, down just enough. He gets Harry off just like that, hand tight around his cock and mouth hot against his neck, collarbones. It doesn’t take very long. Louis’ perfected this over the years; they both have. Quickies come easily to them, and it means just as much as it does when they take an hour or two to drag things out.

Harry comes with a shout muffled against Louis’ neck, ignoring how Louis wipes his hand off on the sheets in Harry’s bunk. It’s the last night. Whatever.

When it’s Harry’s turn and he’s come back enough, he pushes Louis to the ground and jerks him off fast, sucking red marks into the crook of Louis’ thigh. Nobody will know they’re there besides Harry, won’t be able to see them except for Harry, and maybe it sounds a bit possessive, but Harry loves that. Louis is the same way, really, so what’s it matter.

They’re both sated and happy when they wipe off sweat and come in the tiny bathroom. It’s not the same as their last tour, where Louis had spent an hour riding Harry and they had both come at least twice. Harry was so overwhelmed the whole time he doesn’t even remember how many times they had came.

But it’s enough to get their minds off the fact that this is their last show of the tour and they’ll be going home in the morning, to settle their nerves get them in the best mood possible.

As they make their way back inside, Harry’s got Louis tucked into his side, impossibly close and warm and he couldn’t be happier. One of the crew girls cat call as they walk by. He smiles through the slight blush, ducking out of the way before Michael, who is walking by and now has purple hair, can tug at the end of one of his braids.

When they walk into the large dressing room, Lou is already helping Niall with his hair, while Liam and Zayn are sitting on the couch, looking perfect as ever. Perrie is next to Zayn, legs resting over his and Liam’s laps, while Gemma is nowhere to be seen.

“She’s in the loo, I think,” Lou says after she and Harry make eye contact.

He nods and lets go of his boyfriend, watching as he goes to stand next to the two in front of the mirror. Sometimes Lou will like to get them ready in private, for unknown reasons, and none of them ever complain. There’s no need to complain anyways.

Currently, Zayn and Perrie are quietly whispering to each other and Liam stands up, coming to trace his fingers over Harry’s braids similarly to how Louis had done earlier in the bus. Except Harry doesn’t have the urge to kiss Liam and get him off like he had with Louis, so it’s not too similar.

“Perrie, you do a wonderful job,” Liam glances back at her, and she stops whispering for a second to smile brightly. Harry nods in agreement. Liam turns back and asks, “You wearing it through the concert like this?”

Harry chuckles, searching out for Louis’ eyes. He’s already watching, eyes twinkling and laugh right on the tip of his tongue. The way things work these days…

“Yeah,” he answers, shrugging. He stuffs his hands in his pockets.

Gemma walks in then, rolling her eyes when they land on Harry, and she hands him her phone. Slowly, he brings it up to his ear, says, “Hello?”

“Harry? Hi, love,” his mother’s voice seeps through the speaker, and it’s so great to hear her voice. He kisses Gemma on the forehead, telling his mum to hold for a minute while he finds an empty room or a bathroom or something.

Once he’s alone, he brings the phone back up to his ear, feeling his cheeks almost hurting from smiling so much. “Hey, mum,” he greets, sliding down the closed door of the storage room.

“How’ve you been?” she asks like she always does, though her voice sounds a little different, more worried than curious.

He knows already that Gemma has been telling her everything, and Harry answers truthfully. “I’m wonderful, at the moment. Perrie braided my hair earlier and I’m wearing it like that for the show in a bit.”

“You better send me a picture,” she demands, smile in her voice. She goes back to serious. “The boys haven’t been giving you too much trouble, have they? Especially today?”

“Nah,” Harry replies, picking at his nails before realizing that he might chip the paint again and then Gemma would be mad at him again. “Liam loves it and I started talking to you before any of the others could say anything, so…”

He hears his mother sigh, and he sighs too. She loves him so much and it breaks her heart whenever she hears about the boys’ teasing and names, and Harry knows this. He knows how much she worries and he hates that she worries so much.

“Well… I’m glad you’re okay.”

“How’ve you been?” Harry asks in return, hoping that she’ll go easily with the subject change.

She does, wonderfully, and Harry smiles. “I miss you, of course. But otherwise, everything is great. Robin misses you too, is always asking how you are.”

“Aw, tell him I say hi. I’ll be home to see you in… five days, I think,” Harry counts, and yeah. They go home tomorrow, and on Friday, Harry and Louis will drive first to Holmes Chapel for a few days, and then to Doncaster to see Louis’ family.

Well, practically Harry’s too, from what Jay has said millions of times before but he’s always thought of them as Louis’ parents and siblings.

He can’t wait to see Doris and Ernest. He loves babies.

“Oh Harry, I can’t wait,” his mum gushes, rambling on about how she’s going to make his favorite childhood meals and they’ll walk through the woods to that abandoned, hidden park they had found when Harry was seven and was upset about the older kids making fun of him for his pink lipstick.

Harry thinks about all the times they went there whenever he was upset, and how happy he feels when he thinks about taking turns with his mum on the swing.

By the time they’ve gotten to talking about what Harry is going to do with all his stuff now that his mum is wanting to turn his old room into an office for her and Robin, there is a knock on the door and Louis’ voice travels through.

“Sweets? Come on, say bye to your mum. We’ve got to get our mics.”

Harry says his goodbyes, telling his mum that all the boys says hi and that he loves her, and when he opens the door, he’s happier than he could ever be. Louis’ smile only makes him happier and he tugs Louis into the tightest hug.

“I love you,” he whispers.

Louis whispers it back, then drags Harry down to where the boys, plus Paul and a few of their crew, are all standing and getting their earplugs in. The other four that have been opening for them are all closing out with the last song, like always, and Harry and Louis both are quick to grab their stuff and get assembled.

Paul gives him a weird look plus smile combo when he sees Harry’s hair, and instead of ruffling Harry’s curls like always, and pissing Lou off, he grips Harry’s shoulders and says, “Be good,” and even though there’s no force behind his words, Harry still nods.

“Always,” he grins wide, knowing that was a lie. He always promises to be good, and then he ends up being stupid while out on stage, albeit the fun stupid.

Paul squeezes his shoulders once more before Gemma is tugging him away into a tight hug. She’s got her own earphones in, since the doors are being opened and the others are running past. They send their good lucks and rush to their dressing room, and Harry is torn away from his sister and pushed through the doors.

The screams are so loud Harry winces, though he’s used to it. They are all handed their mics and Harry tugs Louis in for one last kiss before they get into place.

The last show starts right now.

-

The crowd is wild the whole night, cheering and singing along and laughing whenever the boys do something stupid. Harry smiles and laughs the whole night, rolling his eyes whenever one of the boys will tug on the ends of his braids.

He runs around and sings as best as he can, and only squeaks a little when it’s intermission and Louis pinches his bum on his way to the bathroom for a quick wee.

The night goes spectacularly, and Harry feels like he’s on some sort of high. It’s different from a weed high, way different. He feels more energetic, instead of calm, though he’s super happy and on top of the world and he doesn’t want it to end.

What makes him feel like he’s flying, is when Liam is going off on one of his weird singing things where he belts out whatever comes to mind, and Harry is sitting and scanning the crowd, and his eyes come across three signs right next to each other near the left side. They aren’t close and they aren’t big, so Harry has to squint his eyes to read them, but when he does, he nearly falls over.

 _Gender doesn’t matter!_ the first says in purple sparkly letters, while the second, in sparkly pink letters, read _Harry is_ _perfect_ , and the third is in light blue sparkly letters: _whether boy or girl!_

_Gender doesn’t matter! Harry is perfect whether boy or girl!_

It’s the most wonderful thing in the world, seeing with his own eyes, in real life, that the fans support him no matter what. He waves in the direction of the signs, smiling and giving a thumbs up. Then Harry looks behind himself backstage, catching Gemma’s eyes and she’s smiling too. She read the signs too, and Harry might want to cry.

The moment he crashes, being grounded so hard after feeling like everything in the world seems so perfect, is when Zayn catches sight of the sign. Harry watches with curious eyes as Zayn squints his eyes to read, then sends a humorous smile to Harry.

Harry arches an eyebrow, and Zayn nudges both Niall and Louis and points to the signs.

Harry tries to ignore them, he really does, but then apparently Liam has read the signs too and he’s laughing, gripping Harry’s shoulder and shaking him slightly. Niall runs by, rubbing his hand over Harry’s braids and saying, “Lovely Harry,” into the mic.

The crowd goes wild, and Harry catches Louis’ eyes and nearly falls again, but not in a good way. Louis’ laughing, rolls his eyes. He gives Harry a look like that’s the most ridiculous thing in the world and those fans are crazy for ever thinking such a thing about Harry.

He doesn’t look back to Gemma because he knows she is watching and he can feel her anger from here.

It’s great, absolutely _perfect_ , to know what the boys think about that. Now that he knows that they laugh and refuse to believe the idea that Harry might feel like a girl sometimes, Harry wants to curl into a ball and sink into the core of the earth and live there by himself forever.

Maybe they’re just teasing? Maybe they already know, and it’s funny to them, that Harry isn’t the most manly man out there, that he likes his hair being done and nails polished…

Harry forces a smile, like always. It’s a lot harder than usual right now since he knows how the boys feel about everything now, and since he’s singing in front of thousands of people, _fans_.

He’ll sleep it off tonight. Then in the morning he’ll tell his sister that he won’t do it and he’ll move to Kuwait and adopt a fake name and a dog and live off the land.

Maybe he’ll stop over-exaggerating everything and sing and have fun and forget about everything all together.

Yeah. That sounds like the best option right now.

-

“I’m going to fucking kill them,” Gemma seethes, dragging Harry away from everybody as soon as it’s actually over and he’s walking off the stage.

He doesn’t want to do this right now. He wants to find Louis and bend over for him, hoping Louis can make the rush of everything go away in a good way. What Harry doesn’t want is to come down from the high of their last show of the tour by trying to get his sister to calm down, by trying to convince her that “killing the boys” isn’t the best option.

Harry follows Gemma anyways, letting her lead the way to the car that Paul and a few other crew members usually ride in. They slide in and she snaps at the driver to get them to the hotel as fast as possible. Harry smiles apologetically at the driver, who smiles back and starts driving.

The tinted windows are rolled up and they’re out of there in a few seconds flat, and Harry feels the weight of everything crashing down on him.

He keeps it together, though, for Gemma’s and the driver’s sakes, because he doesn’t want to cry in front of them. He doesn’t want to cry at all, but he can feel it coming and that hotel better be close by now.

No doubt will Paul and Louis be mad at him for leaving right away without checking in, as will the boys, but Harry can’t bring himself to care _too_ much. He’s supposed to be upset with them. Why do they, along with concerns about making sure they are all perfectly happy, always have to ruin that?

Harry is too nice and wonderful, and sometimes he wishes he weren’t.

“Thank you,” he says softly to the driver, offering a guilty smile then following Gemma out of the car. The driver looks like he understands, like he isn’t upset in the least that Gemma had been particularly rude.

They’re walking through the car garage that’s under the hotel and to the hotel, and by the time they step off onto their floor and are making their way to Harry’s room, Gemma has somewhat calmed down.

Not enough, though, since she says, “Get your stuff,” gesturing to Harry’s room. “We’re leaving.”

“What?” he croaks, suddenly missing Louis’ arms and wanting a hug.

“You heard me,” is all she says as she steps into her own room and Harry is left in the hallway by himself.

He decides to do as she says, knowing he can’t argue, so he puts his suitcase together, maybe stealing one of Louis’ jumpers, and meets her out in the hallway.

Harry frowns as he follows her silently back down to the elevator, and down to the car that is still waiting. Before Harry knows it, they’re pulling in front of the airport.

“You can get switch our tickets for tomorrow to tonight, right? Maybe New York or something. Just somewhere forever away from here,” his sister spits.

Harry’s phone as been buzzing nonstop for the past half hour now, but he ignores it in favor of doing as Gemma had asked and switching their tickets for tonight. The furthest away place that they can switch it to too leave right now is Toronto.

“Good enough,” she shrugs when Harry asks.

He turns his phone off while telling the lady that yes, Toronto is fine, thank you. She switches with just a few clicks of her mouse, printing off the tickets and telling them which terminal it’s in and that they have to hurry because the plane leaves in ten minutes.

Nine texts and fourteen missed calls, and Harry barely spares a glance at his notification bar before the screen goes black. He stuffs his phone in the front of his suitcase, and they make it in five minutes.

-

Toronto, as it turns out, is alive and loud when they arrive, even though it’s nearing three in the morning once they’re ready to find a cab or a private car service. The airport is, at least. Thankfully, both Harry and Gemma have scarves and sunglasses in their carry-ons so hopefully they won’t be recognized as they make their way to the man holding a sign with the fake name Harry had given to the car service.

Once in the car, Gemma gets her phone out and clears her, once again, full notification bar, in favor of booking a room for them. Harry helps her look, and they pick a small, wonderful looking Bed And Breakfast on the outskirts of the city, in a very rural neighborhood.

Once there, and even though he had already paid the driving service company, Harry takes a bill out of his wallet and gives it to the driver, who insisted on helping them with their baggage.

No matter where Harry goes, if he gets off a plane where the currency is different, the first thing he does is find the bank. He’s always found it convenient to have at least a little bit of cash as well as his bank card.

The man that greets them is older, very nice, and he also insists on helping them with their bags on the way up to their room, after checking in.

The man – Wyatt, Harry learns – gives them a menu for breakfast that will start in a few hours, along with the different activities that will be going on between the meals. “Wait,” Harry whispers when Wyatt is about to leave. Gemma is already settling down into bed, for hopes of a few more hours before breakfast, and he doesn’t want to wake her.

Once in the hallway, Wyatt turns and stares at Harry in wait, eyes kind and worn. He must be tired, having to stay up all night like this. Harry feels bad for him, wishes he could offer the man a hug, though he knows he shouldn’t.

Instead, he asks, “Do you know who I am?” as softly and kindly as he can.

Wyatt raises an eyebrow, then makes it look as if he’s thinking, finger taping his chin. “Yes, I believe you are one of the members of that band my daughter loves, and got to see in concert back in August.”

Well. That throws Harry off, and though this man may seem like the type he could trust, it’s still hard to tell. So he asks, “And you won’t tell anybody that me and my sister are here, right?”

“Of course not,” Wyatt scoffs, rolling his eyes. With a smile, he adds, “Although I can’t promise I won’t tell my daughter. If she finds out I kept something like this from her, she’d skin me,” and Harry can see how great of a father this man is.

“I’d love to meet her,” Harry says. He rubs his eyes, a yawn ripping through him.

He’s about to apologize for yawning in the middle of a conversation because that was quite rude of him, but Wyatt beats him to it. “You go sleep. Jess will be here in the morning before school. I can arrange for a wakeup call, if you’d like.”

“Please?” Wyatt nods, and Harry is forced to go back into his and Gemma’s room.

She’s asleep already, and Harry could care less about taking his hair out as he strips down to his briefs and crawls under the covers. His sister shifts when he goes to hold her, but she stays asleep.

When the phone wakes him up nearly four hours later, Harry feels a lot better. Along with the sleep he had gotten on the airplane, he feels much more awake and alert, especially after he hears Gemma answering the phone and hanging up, she jumps on the bed and shakes him awake.

“Harry! Wake up!” she sing-songs, her knee digging into Harry’s thigh painfully.

He yelps, sitting up and grabbing her arms so he can tackle her back onto the bed. Now that he’s older and stronger, he can attack her just as easily, unlike back when they were still teenagers and children. “You fucker,” he laughs, just barely dodging her knee, and rolls back onto his back next to her.

“Time to wake up,” she says eventually. Harry watches her get up from the bed and notices that she’s already taken a shower and is ready.

“No, really?” Harry teases, and he gets up as well. Even though he can still feel the dried sweat clinging to his skin from last night’s concert, Harry decides to take a shower later. Right now, his stomach is grumbling so he quickly pulls on some sweats and a jumper, as well as grabbing a beanie that he’s sure is Niall’s, to cover up his braids.

Once he’s got his slippers on, he links arms with his sister and lets her lead the way back downstairs.

It’s not a surprise when there’s a muffled yelp, and when Harry looks around the small room adorned with a few tables and a few other people, his eyes land on Wyatt and a girl that looks to be his age standing next to him. She’s got a palm covering her mouth, eyes wide, and Harry smiles and walks right over to her.

He’s vaguely aware of Gemma going to sit at a table. “Hi, Jess, is it?”

She nods, and her father chuckles, gripping her shoulder. “I wasn’t lying,” he speaks, then looks at Harry. “If you’d like, I’d be happy to tell my wife what you and your sister are having for breakfast…”

“Gem can order for the both of us,” Harry says, and Jess – Harry wonders what or if it’s short for anything – makes another low noise. Her hand has dropped to her side now, lips quirked up into a bright smile, and Wyatt is chuckling as he walks away. “Is it Jess? Or…

“Jessica, but… how… you were just in Florida though,” she says more to herself, looking away for a split second. Her knowing where he was last night doesn’t even throw him off.

Chuckling, Harry drapes an arm over her shoulders and says, “Flew out right after the concert last night.”

“Really?” she looks up, and Harry nods. He glances over at his sister, who is glaring down at her phone. Harry flinches a bit. “But why? Wouldn’t you want to go home?”

“Would you rather me be home than here?” he counters, and is rewarded when Jessica smiles and blushes and fumbles a bit for her words.

“Y-yeah, alright. I’m glad you’re here, obviously.” Cheeky one, she is.

Harry would pull out his phone and tweet a picture with her, but his phone is off in his room upstairs and even if he did have it, he wouldn’t pull it out. Who knows how many calls and texts and social media notifications he has. So he asks, “You have a phone, right?”

Quickly, Jessica pulls out her phone, looking guiltily at her father across the room, even as he nods with a smile. “I’m not supposed to have this out…”

“Just a quick picture? Then you’d better be off to school,” asks Harry.

Instead of ‘a quick picture’ they take multiple, per Harry’s request, and then Wyatt is sending her away to get to school. “Her earliest class this semester is at eight,” he answers when Harry asks, along with where school she’s going at. “It’s the neighborhood college.”

His sister is quiet as they eat, barely glancing up from her phone and plate. “Gem?” he whispers once he’s full. Only half of her plate is empty and she’s pushing around what’s left of her eggs, looking like she might take a bite any second, but she never does.

Finally looking up from her phone, Gemma frowns a bit harder when she looks at Harry, and Harry really wants to hug her right now. He has a huge feeling of what this is about, and he really doesn’t want to think about any of that right now. Harry would rather go back upstairs and watch a movie with his sister and then go home and eat Louis out for a bit, forgetting everything bad that’s ever happened.

Is that too much to ask?

Apparently, since his sister pushes her phone across the table. “Louis’ mad at me,” she mumbles, making a sad sigh/chuckle sound that breaks Harry’s heart a little.

“He has no right to be,” Harry mutters, though he sort of understands. If one of Louis’ sisters were to just drag him across the whole country right after their last show without letting him say goodbye or anything, Harry would probably be a bit upset too.

She doesn’t say anything back, only points to the phone screen that’s gone black.

After unlocking it, Harry sees a long string of messages between his sister and his boyfriend, starting from right after the concert had ended the night before. They were quite hard to read, although what she has Louis’ name saves as in her phone made his lips twitch up into the smallest of smiles.

 

_L.S-T._

 

“We haven’t agreed on the last name situation yet,” he mutters.

“I know,” she smiles a little, genuinely, and Harry feels a little better. When she doesn’t say anything else, Harry turns back to the phone, thankful that she picked a table where nobody would be able to look over his shoulder.

The first few texts were what Harry would expect, asking where they’re at, if they left for the hotel already, etc. But then, with shorter amounts of time between each text, Louis had sent more and more, sounding more worried in each.

There was only one from this morning before Gemma finally decided to answer. Harry crumples a bit, because Louis only spells everything out whenever he’s super pissed off or super sad or super worried, and he has a feeling it’s all three: _Harry’s phone is off or dead or something and neither of you won’t fucking answer and I haven’t slept all night. Seriously please answer me!_

Then Gemma had answered that they’re fine, they’re eating breakfast, of which Louis had come back with asking where they were because they weren’t at home nor were they at Anne’s, and Harry had to take a moment.

God, he’s so upset. He hates doing this to Louis, making Louis upset and scared and worried all at once. Louis must already be home, must be alone in their cold bed. Maybe he’s crying, maybe…

Harry finishes going through the messages and they get super confusing. One second Louis is saying that Gemma has to tell him where they are, the next he’s begging to talk to Harry, and then Gemma is saying that he doesn’t deserve to, and then Louis is back to angry. It’s all so much that Harry ends up scrolling to the end, passing through four very long messages his sister had sent. He doesn’t need to read those since he already knows what they say.

The very last and only messages Louis had sent in return to Gemma’s twenty-years-long message, was _im sorry_ and _please come home_

He wants to go home so bad, wants to hold Louis and be held by Louis, wants to apologize for everything ever.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Harry,” his sister whispers harshly. Harry hadn’t realized he’d been saying that out loud. “Louis should be apologizing, as well as everybody else. And he better when we get back because if he doesn’t…”

“Gem,” Harry’s exhausted and he wants to stop fighting, or arguing, or whatever is going on. “He can’t apologize when I get back because he won’t know what he’s apologizing for. All he knows is we’re upset about him and the boys making fun of those signs last night. He doesn’t knows everything, and if he apologizes, it won’t be for everything. Once you go back home they’re all just going to go back to calling me names and making fun of me like they always do.”

Wyatt walks up then, saying, “Sorry for interrupting, but I can take all of this if you’d like.”

“Yes, of course.”

Harry and Gemma don’t break eye contact while Wyatt cleans up their table, and Gemma has a glint in her eyes that Harry can’t quite place. It makes his stomach churn a bit, _fuck_ , and he really does not want to get sick right now.

“That’s why,” she finally says, well after the man has left with their dishes. “You’re going to tell Louis right when we get back, before he even has the smallest chance of saying he’s sorry, because he needs to know the full reason of why he’s sorry and he’d better mean it… Then you’re going to tell the others, even Paul, because they all deserve to know too,” she adds after a moment of thinking.

She’s right. Harry need to tell them everything when he gets back. They need to knows that Harry doesn’t always want to feel like the manliest man in the world, even though he dislikes being called a girl. It’s important and should not have been avoided for four years, yet it has, and here they are in the worst case scenario.

Whether they get back today, or tomorrow, or in thirty days – “Today,” his sister confirms after he asks – Harry has to sit Louis down for a long, very unwanted, yet wanted at the same time, talk.

“I guess we’d better go get ready to leave then, huh?” mutters Harry, excepting the hand his sister offers as he gets up.

-

 Their front door is bright yellow, while the rest of the house is a dark burgundy. The colors hadn’t originally been like that, Harry remembers. The house was a faded gray that had probably once been brown, while the door was an old wooden thing. It had been Louis’ idea, the color for the house, as well as the color for the new door.

Looking at it now makes Harry’s stomach churn because of how many memories come back of him and Louis and painting the house. How they had gotten into so many paint fights that Harry was still washing paint out of his curls two weeks after the house was finally done.

It’s nothing too fancy, just a four bedroom, two story family home. They had bought it knowing that the others would most likely be staying with them a lot of the time, especially since the others all live in one or two bedroom apartments in the middle of London, while the Harry and Louis live near the edge of the city, in one of the suburbs.

Harry still hasn’t turned his phone on and his sister had turned hers off earlier after breakfast. He just got back from dropping her off at the train station, and now he’s standing a few feet away from the front door.

None of the lights are on, but that makes sense because it’s sometime very late. They had gotten to the airport in Toronto sometime around six in the evening, and with how long the flight had been and the time difference, Harry knows it’s late.

He’s not too worried. He knows Louis is still awake. Louis never sleeps well in their house if Harry isn’t there with him.

Harry’s honestly not surprised that music can be heard when he steps up to the front door, one of his playlists with his ‘indie hipster bands’, as Louis has always called them.

Not being able to stay away from Louis any longer has Harry scrambling to unlock the front door, pushing his suitcase to the side and kicking his shoes off and hanging his jacket up. The music doesn’t turn down, from where it’s traveling throughout the whole house from their bedroom upstairs, so Harry sprints up the stairs, stopping in the doorway of their bedroom.

Louis’ sitting hunched over on the other side of the bed, facing away. He’s wearing one of Harry’s old jumpers that he didn’t pack for the tour, and only that, his hair all sorts of messed up, and soft voice humming along to the song.

Harry wants to run to him and hug him, kiss him, never let go. He knocks on the wooden panel of the doorway instead, watching as Louis jumps and then yells, “I told you to _leave me alone_ , Liam. God, fuck, what do I have to – ” he cuts himself off after turning around, the anger in his eyes melting away instantly.

Harry bites his lip as he slowly makes his way to the bed. Louis’ eyes don’t leave him until Harry’s sitting and Louis launches himself at him. With his face pressed to Harry’s neck, Louis mumbles, “Oh my god.”

Hugging back is the only thing Harry knows how to do at the moment. Louis smells like home, feels like home, _is_ home. Harry’s never truly okay without Louis.

Louis sniffles and Harry wants to punch himself for making Louis cry, but then Louis pulls away suddenly, holding Harry by the shoulders. Harry knows what he’s about to say, so he stops him. “It’s alright, babe,” he whispers.

“But – ”

“Louis,” Harry insists, kissing Louis frantically. “I’m okay and I’m not mad… But we do need to talk.”

It hurts, watching the way Louis’ eyebrows furrow, face crumpling. He almost shrinks away, but Harry won’t let him. “No,” he says, pressing his face into Louis’ neck while dragging him back. “I love you, okay? Don’t get all sad like I’m breaking up with you or something because _I’m not_.”

It’s really hard talking to Louis, convincing him that everything will be okay, but Harry pushes through it. He has to. “I love you too,” whispers Louis.

Sniffling some more, Louis nods and finally relaxes. “You’re so wonderful, you know that?”

Harry chuckles. The skinny jeans he’s still wearing are uncomfortable, but he refuses to let go of Louis. When Louis yawns, Harry has the sudden urge to make him go to sleep, to tell him that they’ll talk in the morning.

But he’s put this off long enough and now is the time. “Can… I can make some tea,” he offers. Tea will help him to calm down a bit more, and he’d rather sit across from Louis at their kitchen table than in bed.

“Right, yeah.” Looking up one last time, Louis stretches a bit and gets up. Harry feel cold so he pulls Louis back into his arms while they make their way down the stairs and into the kitchen.

After Harry’s made tea and they’re both sitting, staring at each other over the brims of their mugs, Harry finally takes a deep breath and decides he’s waited long enough. It’s now or never, he thinks, which makes everything just a tad more intense, but Harry doesn’t care. He sets the warm mug down, keeping his hands around it for the warmth, and gives Louis a faint smile.

Louis, the angel, says nothing. He can tell Harry needs to talk, and Harry is ever so grateful that Louis’ eyes encourage him, yet he doesn’t push Harry into speaking any faster. Louis’ always been like that, letting Harry know that he can say whatever he wants, and that Louis will wait however long it takes.

Like before they were together, back during the X-Factor, and Harry had the biggest crush on Louis. Well, it was more than a crush, and they both knew the feeling was mutual. They cuddled and shared a bed sometimes and were always around each other.

Harry wanted to kiss Louis so bad, but he’d never kissed anybody before in his life – not counting the cheek kisses he gave to his sister and mum all the time. It had been very nerve wracking when he finally told Louis what he wanted, had taken nearly ten minutes. Louis had sat and waited patiently, holding his hand the whole time, looking at Harry like he owned the stars and the moon, and he immediately said yes after Harry quieted down from his rambling about kissing Louis.

And that had been that. Ever since, they haven’t been able to stop kissing, and Louis has always been very, very patient when Harry has something important to say or talk about.

“I… I don’t like when you guys joke around ‘bout me being a-a girl,” Harry eventually stutters out, picking his gaze up from Louis’ lovely hands looking so warm wrapped around his own tea mug. He can see the confusion in Louis’ eyes, and then also the immediate flash of regret. Before Louis can even open his mouth enough to speak, Harry says, “Please… please just let me talk… say everything. I’ll. I’ll say when I’m done…”

Louis’ face is a bit crumpled because he has so many questions and so many sorrys to give even though he doesn’t know half of why he’s sorry. He nods, whispers, “Yeah. Go ahead babe.”

Harry wants to cry, maybe. A little. But he doesn’t because it’ll make him seem even more weak than he is. And he hates looking weak. There’s no telling how long this will take, but Harry’s sure they’ll both be dead tired by the end of it. Maybe so tired that they both fall asleep and Harry will get a goodnight’s sleep before finding out Louis’ reaction to everything.

It goes like this: Harry stutters and whispers a lot, and he knows he must not be making sense half of the time. But this is Louis he’s talking to, and Louis has always been able to understand him and what he’s saying.

Harry tries to keep eye contact with Louis through most of it, but it’s hard. Especially since he can see each and every emotion going through Louis by Louis’ expressions, through his eyes.

It’s a bit pathetic, Harry thinks, that he tears up a bit here and there. Particularly when he’s talking about the jeggings incident with Louis, and the pad incident not a week ago that had spiraled into Harry flying Gemma out and them both acting weird lately.

Louis stays quiet. Though his eyes shine a bunch of different things, not once does it look like he’s going to speak up. His mouth stays shut, except for the few times his jaw drops when he’s surprised by something that Harry says, and Harry loves him incredibly so.

More than should be possible.

By the time he’s finally said the very last thing he can think of to say, though he’ll probably think of something else later because he always forgets when he’s this nervous, Harry is hiccupping and staring down at his cold tea, and Louis’ breathing sounds a bit irregular. That was to be expected; honestly, Harry knew, absolutely for sure knew that Louis wouldn’t just smile and promise to not make fun of him anymore.

He knew that Louis would have a million questions, would want to talk about this and would probably talk ten thousand years to forgive himself.

“I’m. I,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck by reflex when he sees Louis’ eyes are shining wet, a little, and he’s biting his lip so hard Harry’s afraid he might make it bleed. “I’m done, I think… There’s definitely going to be more later because I always forget to say stuff in important conversations like this that make me super nervous but that’s alright I guess because you’ve never had a problem when I forget stuff, right? So it doesn’t matter that I’ve forgotten stuff – ”

“Haz,” Louis whispers, and Harry cuts off, jaw hanging. He’s been rambling, more nervously than he usually does, and he’s glad that Louis stopped him. Harry closes his mouth and shrinks back against the chair as much as he can, feeling like his chest is a hundred times lighter but also like he might explode.

Fuck people and them being able to have very easy conversations about absolutely anything with their life partner. This has not been easy at all, quite possibly the most nerve wracking, terrifying speech he’s ever given, and Louis has yet to say anything besides one of his nicknames that he’s okay with.

“I’m sorry. I know this is a lot, fuck, so much to take in. And I’m super sorry that I didn’t tell you before, like back when we first got together, and I understand if you want to sleep and have a couple days by yourself or something to think over this. I just – Louis!” Harry pleads, bringing his knees up and hugging, finally letting a few tears fall. “Please say something…”

“I love you, you know that, right?” is what Louis says, and Harry can’t help but smile through his tears. He feels his lips quiver as he smiles, and Louis himself smiles a bit. “I still love you, no matter what. If you want to braid your hair and paint your nails and still want me to call you the sexiest man in the world, I will. If you want to wear gym shorts and not shower after you work out with Liam, all sweaty and smell, I’ll still call you pretty if you want.

“And I, _fuck_.” Harry’s lip quivers again, in wait for Louis to continue. “I’m sorry for everything. Like, especially when I said jeggings are for girls. Like, I didn’t know you felt this way, and I should’ve. Ugh, I should’ve known. You’re my boyfriend, the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. I should’ve been able to tell, and now I just feel like shit.”

“Louis,” Harry reaches across the table to grab his hands, happy that Louis’ doesn’t pull away. “I should’ve told you, like, forever ago. None of this is your fault, I’m not saying it is. I just wanted to tell you how I really feel about everything because you deserve to know and because I just. I can’t take the teasing anymore.”

Louis shakes his head vigorously. “No, I won’t tease you anymore about this, I promise. And you’re telling the boys too, because they need to know too.” He squeezes Harry’s hands. “… If you want me to start using, like, girl adjectives, I can. It may be hard to get used to at first, but – ”

“No,” Harry cuts in. He shakes his head vigorously, heavily chuckling. “I like being a guy and I like being called a guy. I don’t like it when you guys call me the girl in the relationship or the band. I want to be Harry, the male with a penis who likes pink head scarves.”

Harry already knows how happy Gemma will be in the morning when he calls her and tells her, can imagine her smile and proud voice.

“Okay… Yeah. I love when you paint your nails and I love when you sometimes wear those lacy things and that see through Burberry shirt that had been in the girls’ dressing room.” Harry’s smiling so hard now his cheeks hurt. He wants to kiss Louis and get some sleep, and they’ll finish talking everything through in the morning. That sounds lovely.

“And I grew up with five girls, so if you ever feel in the mood to go shopping for a skirt or a cute sweater or something, I’ll come with you. Help you pick out colors and all that… You’re the best, you know that?”

Blushing, Harry squeezes Louis’ hands and says, “You are too… I love you.”

“I love you, Harry,” Louis responds. “You’re the best boyfriend I could ever ask for. Now, let’s please get some sleep before we pass out, yeah?” Harry nods, feeling on top of the world as Louis’ kisses him.

-

Harry can’t stop laughing, head thrown back and teeth digging into the back of his hand to try and silence himself somewhat. His other arm is resting over his lap, though it does nothing to hide his half hard cock in these thin sweats.

It’s sort of ironic, how he’s sitting here on his bed in sweats that have curse words and vaginas and boobs drawn all over them, courtesy of Perrie, as well as one of Liam’s ratty flannels that smells like sweat, while Louis, Zayn, Niall, and Liam are all standing in front of him looking the total opposite.

While Harry looks like the normal pussy-loving lazy uni student, crumbs caught in the wrinkles of the flannel and hair greasy from sweat since he hasn’t taken a shower since he had fucked Louis earlier this morning, the boys look like. Well.

For starters, they are all mostly naked save for the different colored scarves they have either around their head or necks, and the thin knickers barely containing their cocks and balls that match the scarves. Louis is wearing dark green, Liam pink and yellow, Niall red and black, and Zayn light blue.

They all have their hair either French braided or curled – god, Lou can do absolutely anything to the shortest hair and make it look amazing. They smell so fucking fruity, like how Gemma sometimes smells, but stronger. From what Harry can see, and he can see almost everything, they’ve all gone and made their whole entire bodies hairless besides their heads, which includes baby-smooth faces. And they’ve got eyeliner, mascara, faint traces of blush, and different shades of lip gloss that compliments their skin.

Harry had honestly thought today would be the laziest day ever. Louis said that he and Niall were heading out to the football pitch for some publicity photos, so Harry snuggled into bed, after changing the sheets because who cares if he sometimes eats it, Harry still refuses to sit in drying come. He’d made sure to get a few beers and a bunch of junk food that Liam would end up making him burn off later anyways, and had a list of movies he wanted to watch.

But, no. Louis had been lying, and he’d called through the bedroom door to make sure Harry paused the movie. Not a moment later, Louis and the other three walked in, and here Harry is now, just barely able to take a few somewhat steady breaths from laughing so hard.

It’s been a month since he finally told Louis, and then the boys, a month since the tour ended, and Harry’s life couldn’t be better. There are no more jokes and name calling and nobody even bats an eye when they see him cooking in the kitchen with a pink apron and a lacy thong.

He knows they support him, and this is the absolute best thing they have ever done. The twenty pictures he takes comes with various glares and death threats that if they ever get leaked…

“Yeah, yeah. _I know_ , Niall. Alright? God, I wouldn’t want a picture of myself like that posted all over the world either, considering. You’ve got nothing to worry about. These are for me.”

“Your wank bank, more like,” Louis gets out around a cough and sneaky eyes.

“Whatever. _I’m_ the only one wearing cotton boxers, while _you_ are all wearing silky knickers, for once, so let me be happy,” Harry spits, cracking up again when he sees how red Liam’s cheeks are. “If I take a picture from the waist up can I send it to Gems?”

Harry wriggles excitedly on the edge of the bed, getting his camera ready again. “We get to see the picture before you send it,” Zayn says, points.

“Yeah,” Louis adds. “To make sure it really is above the waist.

Harry snaps the picture, rolling his eyes when they all scurry over and look over his shoulder at it. The lowest it goes is the barely there hickey Harry had left under Louis’ bellybutton earlier that morning. None of the panties are visible, and Harry hits send before anybody can protest any further.

“You guys realize my mother is going to smother you with love when she finds out how amazing you’re being, right?”

“And Gemma won’t threaten to cut off our bollocks every time she looks at us,” Niall adds, and he really does deserve the light slap Harry delivers to his thigh.

“I love you guys,” Harry mutters. The next second, he’s tackled to the bed by four almost naked, cuddly bodies in the biggest, most wonderful group hug ever. Louis’ face is in his neck and he smiles.

“We love you too,” Liam says.

“You’re in idiot,” Zayn says.

“I love you the most,” Niall says.

“Impossible,” scoffs Louis. “I love Harry the most, you love Liam the most, and Zayn loves Perrie the most. Don’t argue.”

Harry huffs out a laugh against Louis’ forehead, says, “Would you all shut the fuck up and get off please? I plan on not letting you change all day and that can’t really happen if someone’s hip keeps digging into my dick.”

Everybody but Louis is up from the bed and sneaks to the door. Harry takes a couple of deep breaths, knocking Louis’ hand away. “Later,” he says, taking a minute to let his semi go down, and then drags Louis with him off the bed and down the hall.

They dog pile him on the couch again, almost completely naked and very, _very_ pretty, and Harry couldn’t be happier.

His gender identity and sexuality and all that isn’t important anymore, he’s surrounded by most of his favorite people, and he’s got nothing to worry for except for when he’s going to sneak out of the house to go ring shopping for Louis.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place after Harry tells the boys about himself, but before the boys' dress up scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the summary isn't _too_ confusing. Thank you to Aaya and Bonnie for beta'ing. Any mistakes left are most likely mine.
> 
> — Kat Xx

**Wednesday, November 13th, 2014**

 

Harry feels like maybe throwing up a little, and also crying, or punching this couch pillow next to him, or both. Just.

He was not expecting _that_.

“Babe,” Louis coos quietly, hesitantly reaching a hand over to rub his shoulder, “Harry, it’s okay.” Even he sounds a little choked up, damnit.

Shaking Louis’ hand off his shoulder, Harry stands and faces away, hastily wiping his eyes as he makes his way towards the staircase. Behind him three sets of voices are calling his name, one of them he recognizes as Niall’s saying, “Haz, come on,” but he could care less right now. The only thing he wants right now is to be in his room, _alone_.

Thankfully, that’s what he gets. After locking the bedroom door behind himself, Harry strips down to the beige panties Louis had insisted he wear this morning and lays on his back on the floor.

Fuck Liam, okay. No seriously, Liam can go fuck himself, for all Harry cares.

That’s a lie. Harry loves Liam and wishes the best for him, but that doesn’t mean he can’t curse at him mentally when he’s pissed off at him like now.

And Harry has every right to be angry with Liam right now, probably just like Liam has every right to be mad at Harry right now, but that’s not the point. It’s not right that Liam just up and left, not after Harry sat there babbling for half an hour trying to explain everything to them.

Harry was expecting maybe a little anger from at least one of them since he’s waited _four years_ to tell them, he was expecting to answer millions of questions, but he was not—never in a million _years_ , had he been expecting one of them to frown for a while then leave without saying anything, without even a second glance in Harry’s direction.

Louis had reassured him thousands of times that the boys would still love him and accept him just like he does.  And that was just in the first few days after he told Louis. It’s been a whole week now and Harry has no idea how many times Louis has whispered reassuring things in his ear every time he’s gotten nervous about telling them.

Especially today. He’d woken up sweating and freaking out a little, and only after a lot of cuddling and tea had Harry finally sent the text inviting the boys over.

Thinking better of his decision, Harry peels off the beige panties and throws them in the corner of the room, then he pulls on Louis’ oldest, rattiest, and holiest pair of boxers he can find, as well as—Niall’s MOFO shirt? How the hell did that get over here?

Oh well. Harry doesn’t really feel like wearing any of his girl clothes right now.

Nobody can really blame him though, can they? He just told his best friend that he sometimes feels like a girl and in return his best friend stormed off. That’s not ever something Harry would like to experience again, thank you very much.

The doorknob tries to turn a few times, but Harry locked the door so whoever it is won’t be able to get it. Nobody calls out his name or knocks on the door, but even if they had Harry wouldn’t have gotten up. Louis knows where the key to their bedroom door is hidden; there’s no need for Harry to get up off the uncomfortable floor to let whoever that is in.

Maybe he’s acting a bit childish right now. Harry doesn’t have any fucks to give.

A couple minutes later the sound of the door being unlocked fills the room, and Harry stays exactly how he is: star-fished across the floor, staring up at the white ceiling. Whoever it is, well, they should know that what he needs right now is someone to hold, to hold _him_ , not words.

“Haz?” Ah, there’s Zayn’s voice.

Then, “Harry, sweetie.” And there’s Niall.

Harry stays completely still, except for bringing his legs closer together so they can cuddle him if they decide to. They don’t. At least, not yet. “Harry, come on,” Niall says as Harry’s hands are picked up. He chances a quick glance to see Zayn on his right, Niall on his left, and he already knows they’re trying to get him up on the bed.

“Can’t cuddle on the bed,” he grumbles. He pulls his hands back to himself and flops back on the floor, not hard enough to hurt. They really can’t though. Nobody has changed the sheets since this morning and Harry doesn’t think Niall and Zayn would want to cuddle on very soiled sheets.

They get it though, because of course they do. The next moment he’s got both boys cuddling up to his sides and he already feels better.

“We love you. No matter what,” Zayn whispers.

Harry nods and holds them closer. “I know,” he whispers back, “I love you too.”

Briefly Harry wonders where Louis is, because he could really use a kiss or too from his boyfriend right now, but he knows whatever Louis is doing is only to benefit Harry.

“Liam—”

“No,” Harry cuts Niall off, squeezing his elbow, “Just… Not yet. Not right now. Please.”

Zayn cuddles closer, says, “Of course… But. You’re sure you’ll be okay?”

Harry takes a moment to think about it. Sure he could lie and tell them everything will be okay, that he’s fine, but he’s done enough lying to last three lifetimes. Probably. So he says, “No. I don’t—I don’t know. Just. I’d rather not talk about anything right now.”

Niall, the angel, presses a kiss to his shoulder and hooks a leg over his legs. Then, Zayn grabs the duvet that Harry had kicked to the floor earlier this morning before Louis had gotten up to his… shenanigans, and drapes it over the three of them warmly. This is nice, Harry thinks, really nice. Exactly what he needs right now.

Maybe not exactly what he needs. What he needs is for Liam to come back and say he loves Harry and that nothing has changed—except for the teasing, that can go away—and he needs Louis to kiss him and for them all to cuddle on the couch while watching a Harry Potter marathon. Or something.

That would be perfect, but as it is, Harry has two of his favorite boys cuddling him from both sides so he’s mostly content with the way things are.

-

When Harry wakes up he manages a whole two minutes of a blank mind before everything comes rushing back to him. They’re on the floor, Harry and Zayn and Niall, and it’s really hot under this duvet, but the contact is nice. After chancing a glance at the clock on the opposite wall, he realizes why it’s darker in his room: it’s supposed to rain here soon. Besides the curtains being shut preventing any sunlight, the sky outside must be dark with rainclouds.

Mother nature sure does know how to set the mood; dark rainclouds, no doubt thunder will come soon. Perfect for how Harry feels right now.

Zayn and Niall are both asleep still, breaths coming evenly, and though Harry may be upset, he still cares about his boys. Enough not to wake them up when they look so peaceful like this. Slowly and carefully, Harry untangles his legs from the others’, slipping out from between them and under the duvet. Zayn frowns and both he and Niall stir a little until they find each other under the duvet and curl up together.

No matter how much Zayn tries to act like he’s not fond of sleeping this close to someone, Harry will always know. And Niall loves cuddling, maybe even more than Harry himself. Both Niall and Harry are lucky they found guys who like cuddling too.

After pulling on some sweats, Harry quietly makes his way downstairs and into the kitchen to make some much needed tea. All the lights are off but the kitchen window curtains are open, revealing just what Harry was expecting: dark rain clouds. Hopefully it’s just rain. It is almost December, but it’s not cold enough for snow just yet, right?

He takes the teapot off the stove as soon as it starts whistling to make sure it doesn’t wake anybody up, quickly pouring himself a cuppa and foregoing the sugar all together in favor of finding a comfy corner of the couch to settle into.

To his surprise he finds Louis sprawled over the couch, an arm thrown over his face. He isn’t asleep though, since as soon as Harry sits on the other couch Louis sits up, eyes panicked for half a second before they settle on Harry.

“Haz,” he whispers, rubbing his eyes a little. Harry gets up and walks the two steps to where Louis is, only sitting down after Louis lifts his feet. Everything is quiet, scarily so, until Louis sits up to get closer to Harry, chin on Harry’s shoulder as he says, “Y’alright?”

Harry sighs and sips at the tea a little, grimacing a little at the bitter taste. Yeah, he should’ve put sugar in it. “Here,” he says as he hands the tea to Louis, who he knows likes the bitter taste, “Yeah. I’m better now.”

“Nice nap then?” asks Louis. He looks thankful for the tea, so Harry drapes his arm over Louis’ shoulder and pulls him closer.

“Mhm. My head hurt a little since we didn’t have pillows but yeah, it was nice.”

“That’s good.”

Harry is curious, that much is obvious. He wants to know if Louis caught up with Liam, and if he did what he said, what Liam said. He wants to know why Louis didn’t join the nap session with him and Zayn and Niall upstairs, why he stayed down here instead.

But at the same time, Harry doesn’t want to know anything. He wants to sit here and be close to Louis and enjoy the faint sound of the light rain that’s just started to fall. He also wants to go make something for dinner, since he knows Niall and Zayn are bound to wake up sooner rather than later.

“I love you, Harry,” Louis says quietly once he’s done with his tea. He sets the cup on the coffee table in front of them before turning back to face Harry. The look on his face while he takes both of Harry’s hands in his own is one Harry never wants to see, full of sadness and maybe even regret or guilt. Harry frowns as Louis continues, “I’m sorry. I know I said they would all love you and accept you no matter what. I’ve been saying that. I just—”

“Louis,” Harry cuts him off, squeezing his hands and smiling. “You have nothing to be sorry about. We both thought the same thing, yeah, and none of us were expecting that…” Harry takes a moment to think about what he’s going to say next. “… And I don’t think Liam isn’t accepting of me or anything. I’m pretty sure he’s just upset that I’m just now telling him.”

Which is true. Liam does love Harry, loves all the boys, for who they are. He wouldn’t not accept any of them no matter what.

Louis’ eyebrows furrow a little and Harry can hear the gears turning in his head. It’s cute. “You’re right… I wasn’t able to get a hold of him earlier so I wouldn’t know, but… You’ve got a point.”

“I love you too,” Harry adds quieter than before, pulling Louis in for a chaste kiss, then sitting up straighter, “But I don’t really want to talk about this anymore right now, so what should I make for dinner?”

Louis looks hesitant for a whole five seconds before he sighs and settles back against Harry’s chest. Harry wraps his arms around his boyfriend, while Louis answers, “Haven’t had any of your homemade ravioli in a long time but that’ll take too long.”

“Spaghetti it is… You’re gonna have to get up if you want food, you know.”

Groaning, Louis pinches Harry’s side, but he offers a hand out after standing, of which Harry takes happily while standing. “Gimme a kiss first.” Harry rolls his eyes but he complies easily, letting Louis pull him in and kiss him until they’re both a little breathless for it.

“Food,” Harry mumbles, finding it almost impossible to pull away. Somehow he manages, placing a hand over Louis’ mouth before Louis has any chance of letting out the groan Harry knows was about to be let out. “Stop it. Go wake them up and let me cook.”

Louis rolls his eyes but they’re filled with love, so Harry lets him go easily when Louis makes for the stairs.

Now, let’s hope there’s enough tomatoes so Harry can make his homemade sauce.

-

The next morning, Harry is in a better mood, way better than he had been the day before. He doesn’t think there’s a reason behind it either, especially when looking back on yesterday’s events.

But as it is, the morning finds Harry humming a happy, simple tune to himself as he’s getting dressed for the day. He and Louis have no plans for the day, accept lazing around all day. They have to kick Niall and Zayn out of the guest rooms and send them off with some breakfast first—Harry’s responsibility, that—but otherwise, a free day.

Sounds nice, actually.

The sound of the shower in the master bathroom is background noise to Louis’ voice; he’s always done that, sing in the shower, no matter what. Even if they’ve just gotten back from a show and their voices are exhausted. If Louis showers, he sings.

Harry’s quite fond of Louis’ shower singing. It makes him smile a little wider and hum in tune with Louis while shuffling through his dresser for some bottoms.

That’s when his fingers trail over the soft material of one of his pairs of jeggings, black to match his regular jeans. The same ones Louis had teased him about when he’d first worn them, about a month before the tour had ended.

He considers wearing them for a whole two seconds before deciding fuck it—if Louis really doesn’t like them Harry will wear something else. They’ve already ruled out heels, which is obvious because Harry stumbles enough on his own as it is, and Harry had been completely honest when agreeing with Louis that heels were a bad idea. Harry will be a lot sadder if Louis isn’t okay with the jeggings.

He finds he doesn’t care, not really. Yes, Louis is supposed to be supportive throughout all of this, but Harry loves Louis to Pluto and back, and he knows Louis loves him just as much, and if Louis really does have a problem with something Harry won’t object.

Harry picks out a dark blue pair of lacy knickers he _knows_ will show through the thin jeggings, as well as a t-shirt Louis never wears anymore. Pulling on the jeggings is much easier than his actual jeans—they’re thinner, but only by a little, and the material is much, much more stretchy, almost like yoga pants would be.

And after checking in the mirror, Harry knows he made the right decision. The jeggings might look a little better with one of his button ups, but there’s nobody around to impress right now and the t-shirt is soft. Also, Harry’s panty line is so obvious, even through the black, and it all makes his bum and thighs look even more obscene.

Once in the kitchen, Harry settles on making chocolate-chip pancakes, something he knows all the boys —including Liam even though he isn’t here—love. Louis and Harry still have whipped cream and strawberries from their… _date_ , the day before last, and Harry is able to find all the ingredients he needs for homemade lemonade.

Right on time while Harry is making plates for everybody, Louis comes skipping down the stairs looking wide awake and in a good mood, with Zayn and Niall trailing sluggishly behind him. They look like they just woke up, and a little grumpy—Louis’ doing, no doubt.

“Morning children. I’ve got pancakes,” Harry calls, holding up two plates and watching as instantly Niall and Zayn’s eyes follow hungrily.

“Are you kicking us out after?” Zayn asks.

Harry looks expectantly at Louis, who answers, “We sure are. Now eat up lads.” Louis helps Harry by handing Niall and Zayn their plates and glasses, before sidling up next to Harry and pecking him on the cheek. “Smells wonderful, love,” he compliments.

Harry knocks their hips together in reply, motioning for Louis to dig in as well.

Nobody says anything while they eat, and Harry is very grateful for that. He was sure someone— _any_ one of the boys would bring up yesterday, ask how he’s doing, if he needs anything.

As it is, nobody says anything until Harry’s placing all the empty dishes in the sink, and Niall and Zayn are leaving. “Bye Harry,” they say in unison, before individually hugging both him and Louis, and making their way out the door.

Louis helps him with the dishes, Harry’s iPod playing softly on its dock in the corner of the kitchen.

Surprisingly, it isn’t until they’re both sipping at their tea, legs tangled on the couch with some penguin documentary playing on the TV, that Louis notices. “Are those your jeggings?”

Harry hums, setting his tea down on the coffee table. He nods, running his fingers over the material. “Yeah. Found them in the back of my dresser earlier.” Nervously, he glances at Louis, and is surprised to see him frowning. “Louis?”

Of course he’s nervous. He can’t tell if Louis is frowning because he doesn’t like them, or because of something else. He hopes it’s something else—actually, he wishes Louis wasn’t frowning at all—because Harry _really_ likes these jeggings. Like, a lot, and he plans on buying more.

“I said jeggings were for girls…” Louis whispers, and, oh. _Oh_. He’s remembering that, must be why he’s frowning. Harry frowns then too, a little, squeezing Louis’ knee in a comforting gesture. All of a sudden, Louis is facing Harry, holding his face with both hands and pleading, “I’m _so_ sorry, Harry. God. _Fuck!_ I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to—”

“Lou,” Harry whispers, chuckling a little quietly. It’s a sad chuckle, sadder than he’d been trying for. “I’m not upset about that anymore.”

“Yeah but… You were upset about that. I mean, I thought it was just a joke, at the time, and I didn’t understand why you’d gotten mad at me for saying that. I—fuck.” Louis buries his face in his own hands, mumbling something to himself, so quiet that even if his hands weren’t in the way and muffling his voice, Harry wouldn’t have been able to hear him.

Softly and carefully, Harry molds himself further into Louis’ side, pressing a light kiss on Louis’ neck and saying, “I was upset. _Was_. I’m not anymore.”

“I’m still sorry,” whispers Louis. His arms come around Harry tightly, like he’ll never let go. Harry’s smiling already.

Harry knows Louis won’t let this go unless he explains, at least a little, why it upset him so much, and unless he explains why he isn’t mad about it anymore. “I mean, yeah,” he starts, “it hurt that you said that, especially because I remember waking up that morning and feeling more like a boy than I ever had. And it hurt because you’re probably the gayest man I know, and when you basically called me a girl you kind of insulted yourself. But… Really, I’m not upset about it anymore. If I was I wouldn’t be wearing these right now.”

Louis still looks worried, so Harry crawls into his lap and hugs him tight. “Seriously,” he whispers, smiling as he feels Louis pull him closer.

“Alright,” Louis finally says, sighing softly against Harry’s neck. It sends tingles down his spine, just like always, but he doesn’t want to start anything without asking the question at the forefront of his mind right now.

“You like them, right?” Sitting back against Louis’ thighs, Harry picks at the fabric a bit, pulling at it a little and letting it snap back. He looks back up shyly at Louis.

Louis grabs Harry by the hips and pulls him forward, sealing their lips together in an urgent kiss. “Fuck yes, of course I do,” he whispers, before diving back in and kissing Harry hungrily. Harry opens his mouth easily, like he always does and always will, and kisses back just as urgently. He can’t help the way his hips dip forward against Louis’, or the way his breath hitches when he feels Louis already half-hard.

Harry nibbles a little on Louis’ bottom lip, dipping his hips forward again as he himself starts fattening up in his knickers. “Lou,” he whispers, gasping when Louis sinks farther down the couch so when Harry sits back, his arse is against Louis’ cock. Louis’ hands are gripping his waist tightly, and he starts rocking Harry back against his dick, then forward so Harry’s catches against Louis’ stomach.

“Your arse looks so good in them.” Louis’ hands dip down to squeeze his arse a little, before coming back up to his hips. “Couldn’t keep my eyes off you all morning.”

Louis must’ve noticed him wearing them earlier, then. Hm…

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Louis answers, continuing to rock them together. It feels so good, and, embarrassingly, Harry knows that if Louis keeps this up he’ll come in his panties. He really doesn’t want that right now, doesn’t want to have to throw these knickers away because the fabric will be stained forever. “So beautiful. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Harry says back, “But don’t wanna come like this.”

Louis pulls away, and asks, “You’re close already?”

Harry scoffs. He’s not fourteen; he does have good stamina. “No,” he says, sitting back again. This time, though, it’s not on Louis’ thighs, and Louis’ eyes close with a deep breath that’s so beautiful. Harry pushes back again, keeping his hands on his thighs like a good boy while rocking. He wishes they could skip the prepping part because he really wants Louis’ cock in him, like, right now, wants to ride him into the couch and trap Louis’ hands under his knees so he’s doing all the work.

After saying so right in Louis’ ear, quite seductively he thinks, if the way Louis groans quietly and grips him tighter is anything to go by, Harry kisses down Louis’ neck, waiting for an answer. “I want that too,” Louis says, biting softly at Harry’s collarbone. “But—”

“—No. No buts unless it’s mine—”

“ _But_ ,” Louis continues right over Harry’s protest, “I kind of really want you to fuck me.”

Gasping, Harry rocks back again, his hand flying down to palm at his cock a few times. Yeah, fuck, yes he would like to fuck Louis. It’s been a while since he’s done so. Louis must’ve been thinking about it all morning, maybe even since yesterday, considering he reaches between the couch pillow and the arm of the couch, only to return with one of their spare bottles of lube.

“Want me to do it?” he asks, already breathless, as he reaches for the bottle.

Louis hands it to him, but doesn’t answer Harry’s question until after he pulls them both up so they’re standing. Harry tilts his head back a little as Louis noses across his collarbone and up the side of his neck, before nibbling on his earlobe a little. “Want your mouth first,” he whispers.

Harry shudders. “Fuck, yeah,” he agrees easily, while bringing his hands around and snaking them in the back of Louis’ pants. They snog for a few more long moments, before Louis pushes Harry’s hands away and pushes his pants down to the floor.

Harry watches, mesmerized, as Louis kicks them away, then situates himself so that he’s on his elbows and knees on the couch. He’s barely able to look away from the magnificent sight in front of him long enough to drag the jeggings off his legs and pull the shirt over his head, before Louis is snapping at him to hurry up.

It doesn’t take him very long after that to get himself situated, sitting crisscrossed right behind Louis with Louis’ legs on either side of his. It’s a tight squeeze, and Harry’s momentarily worried he or Louis might fall off because of their smaller-than-average couch, but all thoughts fly from his head when Harry sees Louis’ cock fully hard, hanging heavily between his thighs.

Setting the lube on the coffee table, Harry then has both hands free to cover each of Louis’ cheeks and spread them, and his cock twitches at the sight of Louis’ pink, fluttering hole right on front of his face. He never gets tired of this—anything they do, actually—but especially this. Louis always gets so… submissive, he thinks is the word, whenever Harry rims him.

He’s only reminded of the fact when, after he finally leans in and licks a long, broad stripe over Louis’ hole, Louis moans loudly and pushes his hips back. Harry keeps licking over Louis’ hole, switching from swift kitten-licks right over the rim, and pressed against it without actually pushing in, until Louis wiggles back and snaps at him to, “Hurry the fuck up, _please_.”

Bringing a hand between Louis’ thighs to give his dick a couple of quick tugs, Harry revels in the soft pants Louis is letting out, then presses his tongue right against Louis’ hole, pushing in. Louis goes absolutely wild for it, thrashing about a little and crying out against the couch cushion.

Harry continues doing what he knows Louis likes best, until Louis is constantly mumbling out nonsense and pushing back, looking for more. He knows Louis could come just from this, but he kind of really wants to be inside of Louis right now, so he only feels a little bad when he sits back and Louis glares back at him.

“Why’d y’stop?!” demands Louis, wiggling back in search for Harry’s mouth again.

Harry pets a hand down the inside of Louis’ thigh, cooing at him and giggling when Louis kicks a foot back. “I’m right here, babe,” he says as he grabs the lube from the table, still soothing his hand over Louis’ thigh, “Just getting the lube.”

Louis stills completely at that, looking over his shoulder at Harry with pleading eyes. Harry smiles at him, raising his hands higher to show Louis that he’s lubing up a couple of his fingers, then slowly brings them back to rub over Louis’ hole. He snaps the cap of the bottle closed and barely pays any mind to it as he tosses it behind himself, hoping it landed on the couch.

With the way Louis is pushing back, wanting, _searching_ for more, Harry can’t be half-arsed to care about anything else right now. With his clean hand gripping Louis’ hip to keep him still, Harry slowly presses in with one finger until he can’t anymore, Louis’ rim fluttering around his second knuckle wonderfully.

 “Harry,” Louis pants, and Harry feels himself twitching in the thin confinements of his knickers.

Despite Harry’s hand holding onto his hip, Louis still tries to push back, squirming and wiggling his hips back. Harry bites his lip hard to keep himself from giggling or smiling too wide because of how cute Louis is right now. “Love,” whispers Harry as he starts moving his finger, the usual motions he knows to use to stay away from Louis’ prostate and to open him up easily at the same time.

“Hurry up,” Louis says back, but he stays still, and Harry softly plants a kiss to each of Louis’ bum cheeks. He can’t help it—he loves Louis _so_ much, it almost hurts sometimes.

Because he can’t say no to Louis, Harry slowly pushes in a second finger, almost drooling at the tight stretch and the way Louis keens. “Good?” he asks, always keeping Louis’ comfort in mind.

“Yeah,” Louis answers a little breathlessly. He pushes up onto his elbows and looks over his shoulder, meeting Harry’s eyes and biting his lip. Harry curls his fingers the perfect way, knows what it’ll do to Louis, and—

It does exactly that: Louis’ mouth drops open, his eyes squeeze shut, and a long, quiet moan curls out of his mouth. Well. Usually Harry _would_ stay away from his prostate because he knows Louis likes it better when it’s Harry’s cock, but he deserved it, really, looking back at Harry with wide, blown out eyes and puffy, red lips like that.

After rubbing over it a few more times—Louis makes the loveliest sounds—Harry isn’t surprised when Louis kicks back and barks at him to, “ _Fuck_ me already!” And even though Harry knows Louis means well, he still appreciates the quiet, “Please,” Louis sends over his shoulder with a small smile.

“Just a sec,” he whispers, searching behind himself blindly for the bottle. When he finds it, he makes quick work of pulling the panties down to where they’re resting right under his balls, and slicking himself up because Louis’ not the only impatient one. The only attention his dick has gotten was earlier when Louis and him humped each other a little.

And that’s very unacceptable.

One hand on Louis’ hip and the other holding the base of his cock, Harry knees forward until he can press the head of his cock to Louis’ hole, just barely there pressure, but it’s enough to have Louis scrambling for purchase of the arm of the couch. They’re both panting now, Louis more than Harry, but that’s to be expected.

Harry pushes forward just enough to feel Louis start to stretch open, but not all the way in, not yet, and says, “Ready?”

“Yes, Harry. Yes, please just—” Harry pushes in about half way, “— _fuck_ ,” but he stops there, knowing that despite the fact Louis is trying to push back onto Harry’s cock even more, he still needs time to adjust.

There’s a lot of things Harry would like to say right now, like how much he loves Louis and how wonderful Louis feels around him and how badly he wants to kiss Louis, but the soft, keening sound Louis makes cuts him off.

“You alright?” he asks, a little worried now, his thumbs dipping into the dimples at the bottom of Louis’ spine.

Nodding, Louis looks over his shoulder again with wide, bright blue eyes, and pleads, “Yeah, yes. Please just—just kiss—kiss me, please.”

That, Harry can do. He doesn’t mean to, but when he leans forward to hook his chin over Louis’ shoulder, he pushes all the way in, knocking the breath out of both of them. He waits for a few seconds so that they can both take a couple of deep breaths, before attacking Louis’ mouth with his and moaning into it. “So beautiful,” Harry whispers against Louis’ lips, “Feels so good.”

Louis nods again, his mouth going slack and letting Harry lick into it however he wants. Harry thinks back to all the other times they’ve fucked, and how Louis must feel exactly the way Harry always feels: so in love he’s nearly crazy with it, for it, willing to do anything and everything. He doesn’t remember Louis ever being this… pliant or willing while he bottoms, or ever really, but Harry sure does like it.

Once Louis starts kissing back, licking his tongue into Harry’s mouth and pushing more forcefully against him, Harry knows he’s adjusted enough. Slowly, he detaches his mouth from Louis’, ignoring his grunt of protest in favor of pulling out just a few inches then pushing back in.

Louis hums, drops his head back to the couch cushion, and wiggles his hips just enough to make Harry bite his lip to keep the sound in. He repeats the motion a few more times, pulling out even more than the time before, until finally it’s just his head in, threatening to pop out, and Louis is a panting mess below him.

“Gonna fuck you so good,” he murmurs, dragging his nonexistent nails up and down Louis’ back a few times and reveling in the way it arches.

“Get on with it then,” whispers Louis, but there’s no… force behind the words, almost like he’s pleading or asking.

Even if he wasn’t demanding it, Harry obeys. He laces one hand in Louis’ hair, then wraps the other around Louis’ hip, so that when he snaps his hips forward, Louis has nowhere to go. Harry whimpers a little, the tight heat enveloping him again so wonderfully.

Louis, though, he moans, loud and clear and maybe even a little brokenly. He clenches tight around Harry, so tightly it almost hurts, and pleads quietly for him to do it again.

Harry does, drawing out slowly then pumping back in, keeping it up until he starts a rhythm that they are both happy with. Louis lets out these breathy little noises every time Harry pushes in, and he sounds so beautiful, always does.

Because he doesn’t want to get too caught up in this too soon, Harry bites his lip, _hard_ , knowing it’ll keep him grounded until Louis asks for him to go faster, or harder, whichever one comes first.

He doesn’t have to wait too long, though, because soon Louis is squirming and spewing out nonsense, but one word sticks out above them all. “More, more, _More_ ,” he’s pleading constantly now, and he’s gripping the couch cushion so hard Harry almost feels bad for it. “Harry, please.”

Sitting back on his haunches, Harry pulls Louis’ hips back against his own. Louis’ back is arched so much, looks like it must hurt, so Harry brings a hand around, flattens it against Louis’ chest, and pulls up until Louis’ chest is flush with his own.

“Want more?”

“Please,” Louis wheezes out, turning his head from side to side as he tries pushing his hips back even more. Harry’s never seen him like this—it’s usually him that’s reduced to a blabbering mess—but he has a feeling it has to do with the fact that he rimmed Louis for ages, fucked him with his fingers for ages, and is now being the biggest tease.

Humming, he says, “Alright, love. Only ‘cause I love you,” and then he really starts nailing Louis, the best he can from this position. His knees hurt, yeah, but the way Louis’ whining from Harry fucking up into him like this is so worth it.

They’ve only done it like this a few times, back to front, sitting up, and all three times it was Louis behind Harry.

Now though, Harry understands why Louis gets off so hard from doing it like this; his body strains more from having to try and stay upright, _and_ from concentrating on keeping his rhythm up, but he couldn’t be happier.

“Lou,” Harry whispers against the side of Louis’ neck, nibbling a short path up to behind his ear, and then back down.

“Harry,” Louis whines, loud and brokenly. Glancing over Louis’ shoulder, Harry sees Louis’ cock fully hard and red and leaking at the tip, curved up and slapping against his stomach every time Harry fucks in. “I l-love you.”

“Love you too,” Harry breathes back. He sucks a light bruise right under Louis’ hairline, knowing his hair will cover it. They probably won’t be going out for a few days anyways, so it’s not like he’d have to hide it. But still, he wants to be sure.

Neither of them say anything more as Harry continues his quick rhythm of fucking up into Louis, but their breaths and noises are tangled, and the air around them is getting really warm, and Harry knows this is exactly where he wants to be for the rest of his life, wrapped around Louis or wrapped up in Louis—as long as he’s with Louis, he’ll be happy.

The skin right behind Harry’s bollocks is starting to burn a little from the knickers digging into it every time he pulls out, but that’s easy to ignore when Louis’ fingers are digging into his own thighs and then reaching up and behind himself to tangle in Harry’s hair. Reading Louis’ mind, Harry hooks his chin over Louis’ shoulder and meets his lips halfway, licking into the already open mouth he finds and loving every second of it.

With another wave of energy coursing through him just from feeling Louis’ lips on his, Harry starts pushing his hips harder, loving in the sound that punches out of Louis’ mouth. “Fuck, _Harry_ ,” he whines, pushing back, eyes squeezed shut and jaw hung open.

After a few more long minutes, Harry blurts out, “Wanna see you,” and quickly turns Louis over so he’s laying on his back. Louis glares up at Harry like he’s been burned or something, but Harry is quick to knee his way back between Louis’ spread legs and line himself up again.

Harry watches as Louis tries to push back on his cock, but every time he’s about to slip inside, Harry pulls back again, smirking a little when Louis’ kicks his back. “Harry,” he says in a chastising tone, glaring up at him again.

He just—it’s fun to tease Louis, if only a little. Louis’ has gotten Harry off twice in a row by just teasing him, and then again when he actually fucked Harry after. He thinks back to that morning, and all the other times Louis has spent his time teasing Harry, and thinks that, yeah, he’s allowed to tease Louis back.

But only a little because the overwhelming urge to be inside Louis _now_ is fogging up his brain. Harry hikes Louis’ legs up and over his elbows, nearly folding him in half as he pushes all the way back inside. They both stare at each other with their mouths slack until Harry changes the angle at the last second and pushes all the way in against Louis’ prostate, after which Louis’ eyes snap shut and he turns his head to bite at the inside of his wrist.

“Shit,” whispers Harry, and Louis nods just the tiniest bit. Before he even considers continues fucking Louis, Harry frees one of his hands to pull Louis’ arm away from his face, saying, “Wanna hear you love, yeah?”

Louis’ eyes snap back up to him, and, while wiggling his hips, he nods and whispers back, “Yeah. Please.”

With all thoughts flown out the window after hearing Louis whisper “please” like that, Harry picks up his pace again, keeping the angle just right, how he knows Louis likes it best, and he feels on top of the world. Well, on top of Louis, really, but Louis is his world, so it does make sense.

Louis feels so good around him, and under him, skin smooth and hot and burning Harry’s. He knows this won’t last much longer, not with the way Louis is whining and obviously trying to stay still underneath him but failing, and he knows what the heat at the bottom of his spine means.

Louis’ face always does this beautiful thing whenever he’s close like now, and Harry practically lives to see that face. It makes his cock jerk whenever he sees that face. Louis’ whole body jerks at one point, thighs tightening around Harry’s middle and holding him close, and Harry might think Louis is coming if it wasn’t for the way he’s chanting right in Harry’s ear, “Keep going, fuck me, come on, so close, _oh_ my god.”

For a moment Harry thinks about making Louis come like this, with nothing but their stomachs squeezing his cock together the only friction his cock is getting, but he thinks better of it, keeping the angle and pace just right while snaking a hand between them and wrapping his fingers around Louis’ dick.

Already Louis is keening, his hips pushing off the couch and up into Harry’s hand. He’s so sexy. Honestly Harry doesn’t know how he’s held off for this long.

After just a few twists of his wrist and a few swipes of his thumb over Louis’ head, Louis goes stock still, jaw slack in a silent moan and eyebrows furrowed as he shoots between them. Harry can tell he’s trying to keep eye contact, but he knows how hard it is to keep his eyes open when he comes, so he shuts his own eyes and concentrates on fucking deep into the vice-like grip Louis’ hole has on him.

It’s only seconds after Louis has relaxed back into the sofa that Harry comes too, a loud shout of Louis’ name falling from his lips as he presses his face to Louis’ neck, his hips to Louis’ arse, and falls apart.

When he comes to, Louis’ nails are lightly tracing up and down Harry’s sweaty back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It feels so good that he shudders, pressing soft kisses up and down Louis’ neck until Louis is pushing at his shoulders and saying, “Actually kiss me, you dork.”

Love swells so much in Harry’s chest he’s afraid it’ll burst, or maybe that’s just the high feeling he’s riding right now from the amazing sex. Harry kisses Louis with the energy he has left, and lets Louis take over because he always gets super exhausted after topping Louis. It’s not his fault that fucking Louis drains his body so much.

“So good, babe,” Louis compliments, fingers tangling in Harry’s hair and pulling him closer—Harry didn’t think it was possible, but apparently it is.

They kiss lazily for a few more minutes before Harry starts getting uncomfortable, and he knows Louis must be too. With a sigh, Harry slowly pulls away, sitting back on his haunches and slowly slipping out as to not hurt Louis. Louis hums, smiling dopily up at Harry, so wonderful that Harry can’t help but to lean down and kiss him again.

“More than good,” he says back eventually.

“Alright.” Louis pushes at his chest, hopping off the couch so the come leaking down his thighs won’t stain it. The sight of Harry’s pearly come and shiny lube dripping from his hole and down his thighs makes Harry salivate a little, but they’re both too exhausted for another round so soon. “Maybe you can suck me off after a shower,” Louis says after turning back to look down at Harry. He must read minds or something.

Harry quickly searches for the lost bottle of lube, then peels the knickers off and picks up the rest of their discarded clothes. Turning towards the stairs, Harry sees that Louis waited for him. They smile at each other, Louis lacing his fingers through Harry’s when Harry is close enough, and are both quiet on the way upstairs.

-

Four days in and Harry’s managed to block everything that’s happened from his mind that day, and it’s just been him and Louis lazing around the house for the most part. A few hours after Louis and Harry had woken up from their long nap caused by three rounds of very wonderful sex, Zayn had come over and he and Louis smoked up in the garage while Harry made dinner.

He hasn’t heard anything about Liam, or anything straying even close to that subject, except for that first night after when just as he was about to call Louis and Zayn in from the garage for dinner and he overheard Zayn saying that Liam hasn’t been answering his phone for Zayn or Niall either.

Ever since then the subject hasn’t been brought up, and Harry is quite thankful for that. He’s learned his lesson to not keep things bottled up and that it’s best to talk things out, but there’s nothing to talk about, really. Yeah, he’s upset and he misses his best friend and wishes everything would go back to normal, but that’s just about it. Until Liam finally decides to turn up and talk to Harry, there’s nothing he can do.

Louis, the wonderful sweet heart he is, keeps Harry preoccupied as often as possible. That first day, it was with wonderful, draining sex. The second day, they watched a bunch of sappy love movies. Third, Louis made Harry help him do a bunch of yard work until their bodies were tired and they finished the day off with a Skype call to all of Louis’ sisters, as well as one with Gemma.

Today’s the fourth day since Harry told the boys—not that Harry is counting or anything—and it’s another lazy day. Louis told Harry when he woke him up this morning that they were going to go out with Niall later to their favorite pub, but until then they’ve got nothing to do.

Currently they’ve got a rerun of one of the very first Formula 1 races of this year’s season playing. Harry’s lying back against Louis’ chest between Louis’ legs on their bed, and though he likes watching these races with Louis, he also has seen this one before, so he’s a bit preoccupied with Louis’ toes right now.

“Well you’ve got both that teal-ish/blue color and the shiny green.” Louis points to the two nail polish bottles resting on Harry’s thigh—closed, of course, because he isn’t ready just yet. “Which one are you gonna use?”

Harry glances up at the TV to see it’s gone to commercial, then he focuses his attention back on Louis’ feet on his thighs. “Dunno yet,” he answers quietly. “Blue always looks good with your skin but I really like the green one too.”

“Why don’t you do both,” he suggests, leaning forward and hooking his chin over Harry’s shoulder. Harry had been worried at first that Louis couldn’t see over him, but their TV is in the right corner rather than right across from the bed, and Louis had been quick to assure him that Harry was fine. “Like, you could alternate between the two colors or do green on foot and blue on the other?”

Humming, Harry answers with, “We’ll see,” and taps at Louis’ calf then points at the TV to point out that commercials are over.

He’d smiled so wide when Louis agreed to letting Harry paint his toenails. By the time they leave later tonight, they’ll be dry and Louis will be wearing close-toed shoes. Harry had been quick to explain this after asking, because he was really hoping Louis would say yes. He did, of course, and just pulled Harry to sit between his legs.

Thankfully, it’s so early on in the race that Louis doesn’t get too excited when Harry finally starts putting on the undercoat, then the actual color. He does what Louis had suggested: alternates the color and the toes, so every other one is green, while the ones that aren’t green are blue. He leaves Louis’ big toe on his left foot unpolished though, and quickly runs into the bathroom to grab his cherry red color that Gemma had bought him and gave to him after she heard the news that he told Louis.

Louis glances up at him questioningly, but Harry’s hands are big enough that he can hold the small bottle in one without it being seen. He sits between Louis’ legs again, hunching over Louis’ left foot so Louis won’t be able to see the color until he’s done.

“Harry!” Louis laughs after Harry finally shows him. He flexes his toes back and forth, still laughing a little as he looks between them and Harry. “That looks ridiculous.”

“So.” Harry rolls his eyes. He sets the bottles of nail polish on the bedside table and stretches after getting up. “You love it. Don’t get any on the sheets though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Louis teases a little. But he does agree with Harry. “I do love it though. Thanks babe.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry replies, giggling as he bends over to kiss Louis’ cheek and jumping away before Louis can pull him back down on the bed. Just then, the doorbell rings downstairs, and Harry quickly runs to the closet to pull on a shirt. He doesn’t care if it doesn’t matching his sweats. “I’ll get it.”

Harry’s surprised, to say the least, when he finally opens their front door downstairs to Liam standing there, damp from the rain outside, and looking at Harry like he might bust out crying. Harry forgets all about being upset with him—his best friend is cold and sad, okay, he can’t just stand there—pulling him inside and ordering him to take his wet jacket and shoes off while Harry runs to grab the afghan from the couch.

“Are you alright?” he asks while wrapping it around Liam’s slightly shaking form.

Liam nods, says, “Thank you, Harry,” and they’re both startled when Louis upstairs starts to yell.

“Who is it, Haz? Don’t make me come down there in my undies.”

Harry knows for a fact that Louis is wearing night pants and a black wife beater he stole from Zayn, so he yells back, “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, it’s just Liam!”

“Harry—”

Louis cuts Liam off though as he comes running down the stairs, concern painting his face in an obvious frown. He stops at the bottom of the steps, looking warily between Harry and Liam before settling on Liam with an even deeper frown. “Liam,” he greets rather sternly.

Liam bites his lip, worry flashing through his eyes, and the tension in the air is so thick Harry could probably cut it. “Louis,” Liam greets back, his voice wavering a little.

Harry, sensing Louis potential anger, links his fingers around Louis’ wrist and tugs on his arm until Louis looks back at him. “It’s okay,” he says quietly. Louis’ eyes widen and his jaw drops, looking even angrier, but before he can protest Harry is murmuring to Liam to hold on for a second, then he drags Louis into the kitchen.

“Harry!” Louis whisper-yells once they come to a stop on the furthest side of the kitchen. He keeps looking angrily at the doorway.

“No—” Harry seizes Louis by both wrists this time, forcing Louis to look him in the eyes as he continues in a hushed voice. “Please calm down. I know you’re upset. I am too, but there’s no reason to go yelling, okay?”

Looking a bit defeated, Louis mutters, “I wasn’t going to yell.”

Harry hums. “Still,” he says, pulling Louis into his arms in a tight hug. “I promise I’m just as upset as you are, but Liam is my best friend. I’d rather talk to him about this than yell or fight or be angry.”

After a few seconds, Louis sighs and pulls away. He presses up on his tiptoes and kisses Harry briefly. Harry pushes up the back of Louis’ tank top just enough to press his cold hands to Louis’ warm skin, smiling as Louis shudders and steps away.

“No cold hands,” Louis whispers. Then after a few seconds he adds, “I’ll be up in the room then…”

Louis still looks hesitant to leave, so to make him feel better Harry whispers, “I promise I’ll call if I need to, okay?”

“Alright, yeah… Love you.”

“Love you too.” Harry walks with Louis back to the stairs, and doesn’t turn until he hears the sound of Louis flopping down onto their bed and the TV is unmated.

He’s nervous, obviously, but like he’d said to Louis before, Liam is his best friend and he knows both of them will walk out of this happier then when they’d walked into it.

Liam is still wrapped up in the blanket, curled up in the furthest corner of the couch and staring down at the floor. He looks cold and miserable, and Harry has no control over what he’s doing as he walks over, sits right next to Liam, and pulls him into his side. It’s a little weird; he doesn’t know how long it’s been since it was just him and Liam cuddling, since it’s usually him and Louis or all five of them, but it’s nice.

They’re silent for a few minutes—Harry is starting to feel that he should be the one to break the ice, that is, until Liam sits up and turns so he’s sitting crisscrossed, facing Harry. “I’m sorry,” he starts, sounding as tired as he looks, “I really am.”

“I know.” Harry offers him a faint smile. He doesn’t know what else to say. He’s forgiven Liam already, but he still wants to know why he ran away like he did.

Either Liam reads Harry’ mind or he’s already been thinking about it, because the next thing he says is, “I worried mum quite a bit when I showed up crying. She thought one of you’d done something and was right confused when I told her it was me.”

“Sounds like her,” Harry agrees quietly.

“I’m sorry I ran out, I really am. I just—I was so confused and upset—”

“And you had every right to be,” Harry cuts in, “I waited four years to tell you guys something that I should’ve told you that first night in the bungalow.”

Liam looks lost for words for a second. Then he says, “Well, maybe not then. I could understand if you’d wanted to wait a few weeks or so to make sure you could trust us, but… four years is a long time.”

“It is and I should’ve told you sooner, I really should’ve.”

“Harry. You can’t blame yourself for this, okay?” Liam says harshly, and Harry flinches back. “Yeah, I was upset, and I still am, but I’m upset at myself now. It was wrong of me to run out like that and not talk to you like I should’ve.”

Liam puts his arms around Harry again, and Harry accepts the hug. He’s glad they’re talking, and even though Liam did kind of put him through hell these past few days Harry has forgiven him. “You’ve put me through hell these past few days but I honestly don’t care anymore. I’m just glad you’re back and that you accept me.”

“Of course I do!” Liam says like he’s offended Harry would think he _wouldn’t_ accept him.

Harry knows he would—deep down he does—but it makes sense that he’d worry. “I know.” He pokes Liam’s tummy. “Just saying.”

“I have a question.” Harry sits back in his original position, raises an eyebrow at Liam for him to continue. “Do you… I was reading online and a lot of different websites said genderfluid people sometimes prefer the opposite gender’s pronouns when they feel like that gender—or however it works, because I honestly don’t know. Everything online was—”

Harry chuckles, placing a hand on Liam’s arm and cutting off his rambling. “Li, it’s alright,” he says, amused, “Thank you for doing research, but no, I don’t prefer female pronouns. I’ve never felt the need for someone to call me by them at all. Even if I’m feeling particularly girly or girlish, or whatever, I’d still like everybody to use he and him and Harry.”

Liam looks thoughtful, staring down at the shaggy carpet like he is. After about a minute or so, he says, “Well, at least none of us will have to worry about accidentally calling you a girl in front of people we shouldn’t.”

“You two better be good because I’m getting lonely.” Louis storms into the living room, plops down onto Harry’s lap, and looks straight at Liam with stern eyes. Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ waist and kisses his bare shoulder, while Louis says, “I know everything’s good now but I don’t want that to ever happen again. If Harry suddenly tells everybody he’s gonna get a sex change or summat you better not run out again or I will kick your arse.”

“Understood,” says Liam. He and Louis look serious for all of two seconds before both break out into wide smiles, Harry following because, well, he can’t resist smiling when any of the boys smile, let alone Louis.

He loves Louis so much, more than anything in the world. He can’t wait for them to marry and buy a private beach hut in Hawaii—or anywhere with pretty beaches—for them and any of the boys to visit whenever they want. They haven’t really talked much about getting married, but Harry knows both he and Louis both want to someday.

“Harry!” Louis wiggles his bum down against Harry’s crotch, startling Harry out of his daze. “You weren’t listening at all were you?” Louis asks.

Harry makes his eyes wide as possible, just his bottom lip out just a little, and blinks up at Louis with a small smile. “Sorry,” he says in a small voice, “I wasn’t. But don’t go making me hard on front of our guest, ‘kay?” Louis glares daggers at him as Liam groans.

“ _I was saying_ ,” Louis pokes Harry’s cheek, “That the others are on their way over so we should start on dinner. Wanna eat before we gotta be at the pub later.”

“I wanna help,” Liam pipes up, “Mum taught me how to make this new hamburger seasoning mix and I wanna try it out.”

“Good deal. I’ll sit and watch.”

Like always, Harry thinks, pinching Louis’ thigh playfully. Louis’ yelp is way over exaggerated, as well as the way he jumps up from Harry’s lap like Harry shocked him or something, and the way he runs off to the kitchen. Liam squeezes Harry’s shoulder and Harry smiles at him, then watches as Liam too gets up and follows Louis into the kitchen.

For the first time in four years Harry feels whole. There isn’t this numb, guilty feeling in his chest anymore; he doesn’t constantly feel like crawling under his bed and never coming out. It’s a wonderful feeling.

“Harry!” Louis calls for him from in the kitchen.

He gets up, and as he’s walking towards the sound of Louis’ voice, he can’t help but to smile like a maniac.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://harrystinyshorts.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/jake__kat) if anybody is interested or if you have questions about this 'verse, Harry, gender identity stuff, or anything, really. I am all ears. :)
> 
> Xx


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